Unbidden Love
by magicmania87
Summary: Only a year after the trio's last year at Hogwarts, Hermione is held hostage by a group of Neo-Death Eaters. When Harry's attempt at rescue fails, Hermione starts to lose hope...until a gesture from a rebellious Malfoy creates new feelings in her.
1. Unbearably Alone

Note About the Plot: Based a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, this story should be read as an extension of Deathly Hallows, meaning all occurrences (including deaths) still remain true in my story. Also - Death Eaters that have a _written _or mentioned death in Deathly Hallows are not in this story, but I have included Death Eaters whose fates are not known as major players here.

Chapter One: Unbearably Alone

Hermione Granger kicked the cold porridge away with her bare foot. The wooden bowl tipped to one side and splashed the sodden oats across the stones. Her stomach grumbled instantly, protesting against her actions. She ignored her body's demands, focusing instead on the thin rays of moonlight filtering into her cell from the world above. Was the night really as still as it seemed to be? No, of course not. How could the wizarding world be sleeping peacefully when a vicious lot of Neo-Death Eaters raided nearby houses and sought out muggleborns and muggles?

A shiver unrelated to the cold raced up her spine. The scenes which constantly played through her mind had occurred a week ago, but she could still hear the screams of her friends. So dynamic and sharp, the cries could be coming from the steel door of her cell, but all she heard were grumbles and the low, harsh voices of the guards. She knew her loved ones were okay; the conversation she had picked up the day before told her the truth. She brought her mind back to that time, recalling the words with comfort. Realizing she was the only one trapped in this hell was the only comfort these days.

_"You were out rampaging for four hours and only came back with one mudblood?!" The first man's worn voice did not hide his cruel and patronizing tone._

_ "Sir, the neighbourhood had been forewarned of our coming. Most of the homes were deserted except for the one where Potter and his followers were congregated. That boy is still as talented as everyone said he was, and he brought members of the since disbanded group…what was it called? Order of the Sparrow, Order of the…"_

_ "Irrelevant information, Carrow! Once again you're making up excuses for your behaviour! Did you not have enough men for the rampage? How did Dumbledore's fools outwit you now?" The leader was dangerously impatient now, and Carrow sputtered for a moment before composing himself._

_ "W..we tried to invade their house, for we knew it belonged to Potter and his wife Ginger or whichever she was. But powerful protective spells kept us away, and we could only shoot curses at the sky as they made a getaway on their brooms. We luckily got that mudblood Granger because she's not as skillful on her Nimbus as Potter or Weasley…"_

_ "One mudblood is not enough to tell the wizarding world that we mean business! What are we to do with one pathetic girl? Leave her here to die or have some fun with her first?" His harsh sarcasm chilled even Hermione, safe from the Death Eater's grip._

_ Carrow remained silent for a minute, possibly debating whether he was safe to speak his mind. "S..sir…if I may remind you, Granger is an old friend of Harry Potter. If it gets out in the Prophet that we have her captive, Potter may try to save her."_

_ "So? You wish to duel with the boy who stopped the Dark Lord?"_

_ "N..no. I was just saying that Potter may come with reinforcements, which would doubtlessly cause upset and inquiry by the Ministry. Potter is part of the new Ministry, after all, and is powerful among the elite. Others of our kind who are in hiding may come out once they hear that we're gaining power in the name of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. This may be our chance to become more powerful, Sir!"_

_ Silence. The squeaks of gutter rats were the only audible sound as Hermione waited with bated breath for the reply._

_ "That's a far stretch, Carrow…but I like it. The longer Granger is kept captive, the more enraged Potter will become. He will want to attack with force, especially if he knows that Granger has been harmed…" She could almost hear him smirking. "I hear that Travers and Mulciber are in hiding, and this could be the chance to reach them in an unperceived way. Who else is the prisoner close to, Carrow?"_

_ "There is another. The brother of Potter's wife…he, too, has been close to Granger for many years, and it is believed that he is to propose to her soon. But that's merely gossip from…"_

_ "Excellent, Carrow," the leader interrupted. "The more who come, the better for publicity. Keep the girl alive for now."_

_ The pounding of heavy footsteps on stone shook the still air, making it hard for Hermione to catch Carrow's next words._

_ "…enough food for another few weeks…"_

_ "I said to keep her alive, Carrow; that doesn't mean she has to be well nourished or free of scars. Do with her what you wish, as long as she is breathing by the time Potter and his lot arrive."_

_ "It will be done, Sir."_

The heavy clang of the metal door shook Hermione out of her flashback. She glared up at the new arrival determinedly. She showed her defiance often through spiteful glares, but as the days past, she realized this acting out only helped her mask her pain; it did nothing to alleviate it. Her body had weakened considerably since the day she was dragged to the cult's hideout, and the longer she resisted food the more perilous her situation became. She should be eating to gain strength for the day Ron and Harry _did _come, but her pastime of eavesdropping forewarned her of a possible potion mixed into her meals. Starving was better than being cursed or injured by magic; this she was sure of.

"Well, don't we look hearty this evening," taunted Alecto Carrow, his pudgy face breaking into a cruel smile. "Didn't touch tonight's extravagant meal again, did we? Hmm…been three days now, Granger, and all you've digested is a few glasses of filthy water. Is our cook not up to your culinary standards? We did not break out of Azkaban to be serving Mudbloods, but if it means rising to power…"

Hermione shakily rose to her feet and returned Carrow's malice with an unwavering glare. Being eighteen years old and of age in the wizarding world, she would do anything to not feel like a small, incompetent child at the feet of a Hogwarts ex-professor.

Hermione inhaled deeply to give her weak voice some strength. "I do admit that my stomach has been begging for food for days, Carrow. So, to make this less painful for both of us, I will eat the porridge your friends so carefully created for me."

Carrow's eyes brightened despite his attempts to hide it.

"On the one condition that you try the meal first, of course," she added. "I _do_ want to make sure it was created with the best of intentions."

The Death Eater's lips curved into a snarl. "You foolish girl! I will never eat something that was prepared for a mudblood. You live each day praying for your saviour Potter to rescue you, but where has he been, Granger? Too wrapped up over his own battles to give you much thought, I'm sure. If you don't eat something, all Potter and his friends will find when entering your cell is a pile of dusty bones."

Hermione bit her lip as her stomach tightened. Where _were _Harry and Ron? The Neo-Death Eaters' hideout was not a concealed secret; someone in the old Order had to know where it was. Oh, she would do anything to see them again! Not an hour went by when she didn't wish to feel the warm embrace of Mrs Weasley, to glimpse the bright smile of Harry, to listen to the spilled secrets of Ginny, and, most importantly, to feel the warm lips of Ron again.

Tears filled her eyes at the thought of Ronald Weasley. No, she wouldn't show weakness in front of Carrow. She would not become a pathetic, groveling prisoner at his feet.

Despite her attempts to hide it, Carrow caught the wet glimmer in her eyes and laughed. On any other occasion, his deep belly laugh would have been humourous, but right then it was menacing. Despite all her knowledge and brainpower, Hermione was trapped in a situation she could not overcome by reciting a complex spell or solving a puzzle. She had tried to find a passageway out of her cell and pick the lock on her door, but her efforts had always ended in failure.

The truth was clear: she was going to die. Alone. She'd received no rewards for her acts of rebellion, and now she had to obey her captors and eat what they offered her.

Her eyes strayed to the bowl of mush on the ground, making Carrow smile. "That's it, Granger. Remember who you're trying to stay alive for. It won't be long before _someone _will come for you. But the real question is whether any of you will get out alive."

Carrow chuckled before pushing his squat body through the narrow doorway. He banged the door shut with a clatter and Hermione winced. Once the air was still and quiet, she allowed more tears to form and the image of Ron settled in her mind.

_Oh Ron! Where are you? Why have you not tried to come for me? Don't you know what I've been through here in the dark and cold? I cannot survive much longer without some sign of hope!_

Amazingly, her meal did not seem to be poisoned or tainted by any potion. The thin and dirty substance did not smother her hunger, but her aching pains did settle once she'd pushed it down her throat. She closed her eyes as she ate, pretending she was far from her prison. She imagined the squeak of footsteps outside belonging to Ron's family, who were retiring to bed. She placed herself alone in the guest bedroom, huddled up in Ron's old duvet and inhaling his scent as she waited for her good-night kiss.

The shuffling of feet made her smile, for she knew it was the sound of Ron's trainers on the hardwood floor as he crept to her bed.

"I was waiting for you," she whispered to the night air.

He didn't reply but leaned in closer to lightly kiss her cheek. Blood rushed to her face as his breath tickled her skin, but she did not open her eyelids. She did not know when he left her, for his presence lingered on through out the night. Her dreams were filled with serenity and love.

Hermione did not realize it all had been her imagination until the next morning. She awoke on the damp, cold floor starving and unbearably alone.


	2. An Unexpected Visitor

Chapter Two: An Unexpected Visitor

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Hermione winced in her sleep, squeezing her eyes tighter to keep the peaceful dream of Ron in front of her.

_Tap. TAP!_

"Uhh!" She pursed her lips with annoyance as she sprang up from the ground, searching angrily for the cause of the disruption.

_BANG! BANG!_

The creator of the noise was relentless and obviously annoyed with her lack of keen observation as its soft taps turned into full-fledged thumps.

Hermione's irritation dissolved into shock when she found Jetson, Harry's new owl, banging passionately on the small glass window above her cell. A small, crimson letter was tucked in his beak.

Hermione shook her hands anxiously, peering around her for some physical assistance to open the window. "I can't let you in; there's no way for me to get up there!" she squeaked, although she knew the bird couldn't hear her anyway.

Dozens of jagged rocks surrounded the edges of her dirt cell, but she would need just as many to smash the window and her captors would surely hear the commotion. They had stolen her wand the moment of her capture, so magic was out of the question.

Unless…

Her lips curved into a smile when she remembered Harry telling her about his experiences with wandless magic. Even she didn't know how this particular branch of magic worked, but if she was perhaps passionate enough…

"_Liquifaro!_"

At first nothing happened and Hermione's heart banged in her chest. Then, amazingly, the glass window dissolved into a puddle of water and Harry's owl safely entered her cell.

"Oh, Jetson, I'm so glad to see you!" she wept pathetically as the owl perched on her arm. Trying to remain strong for endless days and nights had weakened her emotional barriers, and now seeing a familiar face (even a non-human one) was enough to send salty tears rushing down her face. She rubbed the tawny owl's feathers affectionately, but Jetson narrowed his gaze at her and shook the letter in her face.

"Alright, alright; I understand you have a job to do!" Hermione took the letter from the bird's beak and watched it fly out the open window. He could have leant her _some _sympathy seeing as she wasn't receiving the letter in normal circumstances…

Her mind forgot Jetson entirely as she anxiously scanned the parchment. It was neither addressed nor signed, but she recognized Harry's messy, crooked handwriting instantly.

_Will call by sunset tomorrow. Preparation has taken more time than expected. Location should be easy to breach; they're such a pathetic lot. Hang in there._

New tears formed as she clutched the letter to her chest. So they were coming for her after all! She had never doubted them (well, at least not entirely) and now freedom was a day away. How she longed to see the expression on Carrow's face when Ron blasted him with a spell…

Ron. Why had Ron not written her this letter? Was he so busy with other plans for her escape that Harry had been given this specific duty?

"So glad you have finally arrived, Master. We've been anxious for you to inspect these premises ever since…"

"Enough, Carrow. I don't have time for your jabbering today. My father instructed me to come for one reason and one reason only – to see if this place has any merit at all."

Hermione's blood turned to ice and sent her falling back against the wall. No, it couldn't be! Not _him_! He had claimed to believe so much after…after…

"You want merit, Master? Just take a look inside that cell there. We now possess the perfect captive to snare Potter in."

Their footsteps clambered toward her and Hermione held her breath. Her hands shook as she quickly tore Harry's letter to shreds. She pushed the fragments of parchment under the dirt as her cell door opened and Carrow walked through the door.

"Ah, here she is, Master." He gestured to her proudly, as if presenting a pile of gold to the visitor. "She's been here almost a week now. We've kept her alive well enough, although she does smell a bit ghastly."

Something hard hit her stomach as Draco Malfoy stepped into her cell and stood beside Carrow. When he saw her filthy, pale form lying pathetically on the dirt floor, Malfoy merely raised his eyebrows. If he experienced any other emotions, he hid them masterfully.

"_This _is your master plan, Carrow? Kidnapping the Mudblood Granger until Prince Potter comes to her rescue? Pathetic."

Carrow dropped his arm, stung by his master's jeering. Hermione barely listened to their exchange as she stared at her childhood enemy. She had not seen him since the end of the Second War after Harry had defeated Voldemort. He had been a defeated rat then, cowering behind his parents to hide his weak nature.

The man before her did not resemble the puny boy she recalled from Hogwarts. Had he grown, or did he just look taller? He certainly had gained some muscle since their last encounter, she could not help noticing – hard abs showed under his tight jumper, and his arms were full and tight when he pushed his cloak aside. Draco's hair had forever been properly groomed and oiled at Hogwarts, but now he wore it wavy and thick. Thick strands fell into his cold grey eyes, but he gracefully flicked them away.

Hermione fought a rush of grief from appearing on her face. How unfair fate was! Their first encounter in a year presented him as strong, confident, and well-groomed, while what was she? A sodden, filthy weakling captured and critiqued by men.

"Granger, are you listening?"

Hermione cleared her throat and met Carrow's sharp gaze. "I'm sorry. When people are in my cell I'm used to being spoken _about;_ it is rare to be spoken _to _like a decent human being."

Malfoy snorted humourlessly. "Still has that fiery tongue on her, Carrow. You must be treating her too kindly."

"No, Master! We have only been feeding her enough to keep her alive and even that…"

"Master?" Both men turned and regarded her with exasperation. "How come this little twerp gets to be a 'master'? After all the minimal work he did in the War, he should be given the position of secretary."

"How _dare _you speak to him like that!" Carrow thundered, his eyes wide with madness. "He is the…"

Draco raised a hand lazily. "You obviously don't know Granger, Carrow. She tends to act superior to give herself a sense of accomplishment. She doesn't believe she is a filthy Mudblood like the rest of us do. Let us indulge her; I'm sure this will be her final moment to talk back if what you say about her execution is true."

Despite that it was _Malfoy _who had said 'execution,' fear fired in her brain and sent her pulse racing. Death had never been spoken of before, so how could they make that decision now?

Carrow grinned, reading Hermione's expression. "Ah, that was supposed to be kept a secret until the special day, Master! You have spoken too soon."

Draco smirked. "Better to let the reality sink in slowly, Carrow. I'm sure you'll enjoy watching her succumb to a cowering…"

"ENOUGH!" Hermione rose to her feet with her remaining strength. Her breathing became erratic and her fists clenched as she narrowed her eyes at each man. "I will not stand for this abuse any longer! If you're going to secretly plan my death, _so be it! _But don't stand there gloating like rich pigs when as of yet you have nothing to gloat about. My friends will come for me, and when they do they will blow this whole pathetic place to pieces!"

Carrow sneered and reached into his back pocket for his wand, but Malfoy held out an arm. "Do nothing, Carrow; I will take care of her. You are dismissed."

"But Master…"

"No! I said leave us!"

With a low grumble, Carrow stalked out of the cell pit and slammed the metal door behind him.

Hermione kept her gaze locked on Malfoy's cold eyes. The walls seemed to shift inward and enclose them in an airtight chamber as she found herself alone with Draco Malfoy for the first time in many months.


	3. The New Malfoy

Chapter Three: The New Malfoy

A long moment passed before either of them spoke. Draco unfastened his cloak and whipped it over one shoulder before strutting toward her. He held himself with the same arrogance, and Hermione bristled.

He studied her thoughtfully, as if he couldn't believe that Hermione Granger stood glaring at him. "Something's changed about you, Granger," he remarked softly. "You seem more…dignified, even in this puny cell."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, trying to guess at his game. "War does that to some people, Malfoy. Horrible things can either destroy a person or make them stronger. My character has strengthened because of Voldemort's reign, but I had thought the war had done the opposite for you."

Anger burned in his eyes for a second before they glazed over. Malfoy turned and stepped around the enclosure, analyzing the walls like an interior designer. "I regret that you still hold such a pathetic view of me from before. If anything, my parents' failures with Voldemort made me realize how much I want to change. They started off well - powerful and knowledgeable - but they let the fear bring out their weaknesses and in the end it made them cower. I'm trying to reverse my family's status by taking charge of the Neo-Death Eaters' organization. We hope to tell the world that though the Dark Lord is no more, those who hold Voldemort's wishes for a pureblood world are not gone."

"Good luck with that," she grunted. "With Harry and Ron as leaders in the new Ministry and the Daily Prophet finally uncorrupted, the wizarding world will not let any revolts or murders go unnoticed. There are too many against you, Malfoy; you cannot possibly win now."

Despite her optimistic words, she let the rising fear attach itself to her heart. Harry in particular had feared something like this occurring one day, but they had tried to pretend that the name 'Neo-Death Eater' was used only for gossip purposes and to evoke a new kind of fear. They had never thought an actual organization would be created…

Malfoy raised his eyebrows indignantly. "You think so, do you?" His soft, callous tone reminded her creepily of Lucius. "And what if we had something? Something the Ministry doesn't?" Draco grimaced, as if speaking had caused him physical pain. Hermione frowned as he faced the wall, hands clasped behind his back. She guessed that he'd announced a dark secret or let his lie go too far.

The silence made her heart race, although she wasn't sure why. "Why are you doing this, Draco? Why can't you hide in the shadows like your parents and try to conform to the current society? Causing upset in the system is going to do you more harm than good. Plus, who are you doing this for? Lucius? Carrow? You're old enough now to realize that you don't have to follow the same path as your father."

The fire of rage lit in Malfoy's eyes. He whipped around and rushed toward her, his eyes wide with either resentment or rage. He threw her forcefully against the wall, making Hermione gasp in pain. Her shock at how strongly her words had affected him covered up most of the ache. She stared at him with mixed fascination and fury as he held her against the rocks with one powerful hand, keeping his enraged face close to hers as he hissed.

"Don't _ever _make assumptions about me or my family, Granger! With your abundant knowledge and all your textbooks you think you have all the answers, but the real world is not like school. To survive you have to stand on your own two feet, and that's how I'm making myself known and wanted. To get the record straight, I'm not doing this for anyone but myself. Do you understand, Mudblood?"

She reacted without thought, her fists balled up as she spat a wad of saliva onto his pale, perfectly-formed face.

Draco reacted quicker than she had anticipated. He pulled his wand from his cloak pocket and fired a silent spell at her abdomen. She screamed and fell to the ground, clutching her stomach to halt the gush of blood from the deep wound above her naval. She glared at him with deep, fiery hatred. Malfoy simply smirked above her, the spit already gone from his face.

"I hope that shows you whom you're dealing with, Granger. This is not the same childhood bullying like in the past; I don't feel the same satisfaction by swearing in your face. I'm no longer the weak pet of my father…I'm a man now."

"So your definition of a man is someone who preys upon those weaker than him? That's above your usual pathetic, Malfoy." A fierce pain shot up her front to her head whenever she breathed, but she tried not draw Malfoy's attention to it. She wished him to leave quickly so she could perform the clotting spell. Her shirt was already drenched in blood.

Her rage only increased when she realized Malfoy had seen all her pain and still stood smirking above her.

"I'm glad I had the opportunity to practice that curse on you, Granger. Now it'll be perfected by the time I hit Potter with it tomorrow."

The blood drained from her face. How had he…

"Yes, Granger; I know your friends are coming. I saw Potter's owl arrive earlier. I made sure to memorize its form before, just in case I would need to spot it again. I'm glad that I'll be here for their arrival; ever since Voldemort's demise I've wanted to duel with the Boy Who Lived again. And this time I won't be afraid to fire any killing curses."

Hermione wanted to scream or throw something heavy at his face, but the blood rapidly left her through her wound and the resulting nausea made Draco's form spin before her eyes. Just before unconsciousness reached up to grab her, she felt her gash clot and her vision return.

"It's no fun to taunt you when you're unconscious," he said lazily, twirling his wand between his fingers. "Regain your energy tonight, Granger, so you're ready to run when Potter comes. I can assure you that your friends will meet resistance when they arrive."

Without another glance, Draco Malfoy refastened his cloak and swept from the room. Exhaustion crept into her muscles like the flu, but fear for Harry and Ron – especially Ron – kept her awake for a few more hours. Would they bring enough of the Order members to safely rescue her? Or had Malfoy's malice risen to such an extent that it was dangerous for them to come here? She had never feared Draco in the way she had feared Voldemort or Bellatrix, but the image of his cold, heartless eyes and the power of his spell made her ill. Did he really have the ability to fire _Avada Kadavra _at her friends? And worse, would the spells be successful?

Before long, her exhaustion took over and she passed out on the cold earth. She hoped to experience a peaceful image of Ron to dispel images of Malfoy, but instead a vivid dream entered her unconscious…

_She walked down a dark corridor, the clip, clop of her heels on the polished oak floor echoing off the coal-coloured walls. A middle-aged witch waited for her at the end. The witch's face drooped in weariness and the wall candles highlighted the sheen of tears on her cheeks. She held up her arms silently for Hermione's cloak, and Hermione threw the garment at her._

_ "What has happened, Jasinda?" Hermione asked in a hard tone. "Why was I called here at such late notice? How long has he been here?"_

_ The woman shrank back at Hermione's impatience. "Only a few hours, my lady. We weren't alarmed at first, so we didn't summon you with his immediate arrival, but now…"_

_ "Is he inside?" Hermione cut Jasinda off with an uncouth flick of the hand. _

_ "Yes, miss, he is on…"_

_ Without waiting for her to finish, Hermione rushed inside the master bedroom. The walls shone a rich scarlet as satin curtains of the same shade flowed against the open window. The room was unfurnished except for a king-sized, canopy bed in the centre. There laid a young man with pale blond hair, his face tense in sleep. _

_ Hermione rushed to his side and took his hand, unwanted tears filling her eyes and shaking her vision. Irritated, she brushed them away and leaned in closer to the sleeping man._

_ "Draco…Draco, can you hear me?"_

_ Draco's eyes fluttered open and he recognized her face. He frowned and narrowed his eyes, though Hermione knew he acted out of surprise instead of irritation. _

_ "Why have you come? Why aren't you at work?"_

_ "I heard rumours, Draco, but I couldn't believe them. They scared me too much. Please, end this nonsense by telling me the truth…"_

_ Hermione pulled back with a slight gasp as Draco threw aside the thick duvet and jumped from his bed. He smoothed out the wrinkles in his white, buttoned shirt before launching himself toward the window. He leaned against the window pane and inhaled the crisp night air with urgency. _

_ "Draco, stop this!" she demanded, cupping her hands together to hide their shaking. "You're making all this worse. Why make me worry when you could just deny the rumours?"_

_ A chill rushed through her body at his delayed response. The fear clung to her head, her heart, and her stomach, making her hyperventilate and clutch her chest._

_ "Draco, please!" She longed for release from the pain. "Please stop this!"_

_ He spun around, and the look he gave her was so distant, so absent of emotion that she broke down. She knew the truth before he spoke. She buried her face into her hands as her cries grew louder. She had to concentrate to hear Draco's words. _

_ "It's true, Hermione. I was branded a year before the end. Now it's irritating me again and I don't know what that means. As soon as I'm well, I'm leaving the country. I'm afraid of who's going to seek me out now."_

_ Anger came like the tide. She had difficulty reaching for her left ring finger, but she fought for control and pulled the diamond from her left hand and cast it at his appalled expression. _

_ "You liar! You fiend, you…you monster!" Her words were almost incoherent as she screamed through her shakes and sobs. He seemed as shaken as her, but he hid it well. "All these years I believed your lies, and now you ditch us when the truth finally comes out! What am I to tell Killian? How do I explain to him what you've done to our family?"_

_ Hermione convulsed so heavily she had to lie upon on the bed. Draco didn't approach her despite the concern in his eyes. _

_ "Leave me, just leave me!" she croaked, throwing everything within her reach – pillows, lamps, blankets – at him. _

_ Draco didn't move. He didn't seem to comprehend her words._

_ She glared at him with enough ferocity to make him wince. "GO NOW AND NEVER RETURN! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE…"_

"SHUT UP IN THERE!"

Hermione gasped, jolted awake by the banging on her cell door. Carrow cursed and screamed from outside the door, but what had she done to infuriate him?

Hermione grimaced when she recalled the last words her dream self had cried. She must have screamed the words aloud to receive such a crazed response from the Neo-Death Eater.

She groaned when she remembered _why _she had been screaming "I hate you!" over and over again. Draco had done something terrible to her, and she called him a monster and accused him of destroying their family…

Her heart jumped. _Their _family? No, no, she must've recalled the dream differently…  
But the ring disproved all her frantic hopes. Her identity in the dream couldn't be misinterpreted.

She had been Draco's wife.


	4. Failure

Chapter Four: Failure

At first she thought she was dreaming still. The screams, pounds, and blasts were just exceptionally lucid in this dream, she told herself. Nothing was going to harm her…

This proved a lie when her steel door flew open in a shower of sparks. Hermione screamed and shot up from the ground, clutching her worn jumper to her chest like a security blanket as she met the eyes of the intruder. Shadow covered half of the person's figure, but she made out its tall and muscular outline. For one heart pounding second, Hermione believed it was Malfoy coming to torture her further.

But when the figure stepped forward into better light, a rush of relief swept through her. It was Harry Potter who stood inside her cell.

Hermione did not take in the dirt on his robes or the weariness on his face. Hermione rushed to her best friend like a small child racing to her mum after being lost at the supermarket. With a joyful sob, she threw her trembling body into his arms. He soon supported all her weight as she leaned against him, inhaling his familiar smell and letting her tears wash the dirt from her cheeks.

"Hermione, stop…Hermione, please look at me!"

Annoyed at first at his haste to pull her from him, she drew back and then noticed the fear in his eyes. "What's wrong, Harry?" she whispered.

"We have to _move_, Hermione!" He stressed each word as if speaking to an English language learner. He peered deep into her eyes to help her feel his urgency. "I've sent most of the Order, including Ron, to draw the Death Eaters' attention and then fly off to distract them. Ginny is waiting for us on the other side, but I don't know how many Death Eaters are patrolling the exteriors. Do you have your wand?"

Joy vanished from her mind when she realized Ron would not meet her soon. Why did he choose to distract the Neo-Death Eaters when he knew she couldn't join him? Why was Harry performing the actual rescue?

"No, Alecto Carrow took my wand," she replied.

Harry swore under his breath before taking her hand and leading her out of what had been her home for days. How long had she been trapped in darkness? The hours had blurred together. She pondered this as Harry pulled her onward, past dark corridors and numerous cell doors akin to her own. She wondered if there were other prisoners trapped inside their own hell holes. Had she been the only captive?

They had blindfolded her when they had brought her to the fortress, so Hermione could not fathom how large the hideout really was. Indeed, it seemed to take endless minutes for Harry to navigate through the dark, cobbled passageways. Now the only light came from Harry's illuminated wand and that was hardly enough to see what he searched fruitlessly for.

"Ginny? _Ginny! _Bloody hell, of all the times for her to ignore me…"

"She probably can't _hear _you, Harry!" Hermione said with exasperation. She felt unbearably helpless without her wand, the feeling similar to losing use of a limb. If someone fired a spell at her and Harry could not stop the blast…

She shook her head, thrusting the fear from her mind. Harry would never let that happen.

Harry shushed her, releasing her hand and crawling over a large pile of stones leading to a small crevice in the wall. A sliver of moonlight seeped through the unbelievably small opening, making Hermione wonder how Harry had even found it in their world of black.

Harry tapped his wand twice on the stone, and the rock (about the width of Harry's torso) slid effortlessly aside, letting a rush of moonlight fall onto his body. He whipped around and motioned for Hermione to follow him.

"Harry, is anyone out there?" She could hardly breathe, so she wasn't sure if Harry could hear her or not. What if this was some sort of trap? She became nauseous at the many terrible possibilities. Someone could be impersonating Harry with Polyjuice Potion, leading her into danger; ten Neo-Death Eaters could be awaiting them on the other side of the wall; the rest of the Order could be already captured and Harry would never know it…

"Hermione, _please! _Just trust me!" His desperation forced Hermione to follow him up the treacherous path to the hole. Her feet were bare; she had left her worn, filthy trainers back in her cell. She winced and yelped as jagged edges and sharp points punctured her soles and tore open vulnerable skin. But Harry urged her onward, taking her hand and pulling her up when she got close enough. He motioned for her to get behind him, which Hermione was grateful for. She feared meeting the presence outside their hole, and she prayed it was only Ginny. She followed him slowly, crawling carefully through the narrow opening. Her hips barely squeezed through.

The moon's fierce light forced her to squeeze her eyes shut, and she hadn't expected the end of the exit so soon. With a small squeak of surprise, Hermione tumbled out of the fortress and onto solid ground. She landed on her hands and knees and would have bolted upright if more fear controlled her mind. Instead she crouched, frozen, for several seconds to readjust herself. It was only until she heard Harry's annoyed cry of "_Hermione!_" that she jumped unsteadily to her feet.

Hermione's head swam with the sudden motion; she realized it was hunger that caused her weakness and ill-feeling. When was the last time she had eaten a large enough portion to fill her stomach?

"Hermione, are you going to faint?"

A soft feminine voice spoke to her now. Hermione squinted against the light to find Ginny Potter approaching her cautiously, a broomstick clutched in each hand. The young woman looked torn between reaching out to her and holding back. Hermione realized with a blush that she must smell as awful as she looked. It had been a delight for the Neo-Death Eaters to withhold all bathing privileges. She had only been allowed a decent toilet room.

"Ginny? Are you the only one here?" Hermione glanced quickly to either side of her, but all she noticed were the boundaries of a dark forest. It was also eerily quiet.

Too quiet.

"Ginny, I don't understand," Hermione's voice almost squeaked with fear. "Where are the Neo-Death Eaters? Where's Carrow? Where's _Malfoy_? He promised me there'd be resistance…"

Ginny threw her a broomstick before Hermione could finish her slew of words. "Just get on," she told her. "Ron is leading the rest of the Order in a diversion, which so far has been successful. I haven't seen any Death Eaters since. If we're lucky, we can escape before they notice you're gone."

"What kind of diversion?" Hermione wasn't willing to let her guard down so easily. She had been in too many sticky situations to regard this circumstance as mere "luck".

"I wasn't involved in the planning, but it had something to do with Dungbombs. But enough of that; we have to get going!" Tense and cautious, Harry's wife peered around her almost as often as Hermione.

"Ready?" Harry called, approaching them from behind with his Firebolt in hand.

Hermione nodded and shakily mounted her broom. Ginny and Harry were in the air before she even had a good grip.

Flying had never been Hermione's forte, so it scared her that she was expected to fly whilst so weak and unstable. Instead of focusing on her nerves, she inhaled deeply and gripped the handle as she kicked off from the ground. She had risen twenty metres when something hot and powerful hit her chest, throwing her instantly from the broom and sending her falling…falling toward the shadowy ground.

Hermione did not think or breathe as the air rushed past her. There was nothing around her to halt her drop. She squeezed her eyes closed, either from fear or the pain of the mysterious blast. She did not know how high she had fallen from or how fast she was dropping. All she waited for was the inevitable end when her legs would either break from the impact or death's strong hand would close upon her.

Instead, after what seemed like hours of falling, Hermione landed in someone's arms. Her eyes flew open to land upon a face she had not expected to see this close up…

Draco Malfoy's.

"Hello again, Granger," he murmured, his tone hinting at amusement. His face revealed no sign of stress or anger. He appeared so relaxed that the previous events could've been planned by him. "So glad we're able to meet again. I wasn't quite finished with you yet."

The shock of landing in her rival's arms slowly dissipated. As she struggled in his arms, Draco fluidly set her on her feet, keeping a firm grasp on her waist. He didn't need to waste much energy in trying to contain her; the recent spell had agonizingly bruised her chest, right on top of the scar from Draco's curse. Hermione involuntarily leaned against his side, face tight with pain.

"Hermione!"

"Malfoy, what the hell are you doing? Let her go!"

Hermione heard their cries but couldn't lift her eyes to survey the scene. She used her remaining strength to push herself from Malfoy, but doing so only increased his hold upon her. He was like a stone wall now.

"You two honestly believed you could take her back without opposition?" He laughed high and cruel, making Hermione wince. "Rethink your strategy, Potter."

At that moment, Carrow and two cloaked Death Eaters Apparated to his side. They each raised their wands with chilling smiles and Hermione tensed in Draco's hold.

Carrow leered at Harry and Ginny. "What a pitiful distraction you fools set up! _Dungbombs, _I tell you; how elementary! This isn't Hogwarts anymore, Potter! Unfortunately, Weasley and the rest of his lot escaped capture and are long gone. Too bad you and your wife weren't with them, Potter, or you'd be able to see the sun rise tomorrow. Now nothing can prevent your deaths!"

Carrow raised his wand to deliver a curse and Harry and Ginny copied him, their mouths opening to cry a spell. Hermione moaned as she prepared herself for the inevitable end…

"_Wait!_" Draco cried, his wand flashing a barrier which halted Carrow's oncoming curse. "You'll destroy everything if you battle them now! You _fools_, what did I tell you? If Potter dies, the Ministry will be after us by morning. We can't make his death so obvious. I have Granger; that's all that matters now."

"But Master…" Carrow gritted his teeth and blood rushed to his face. It looked like any sudden moment would set him off and they'd all be showered with spells. "Master, we outnumber them; it's perfect!"

"No!" Draco roared, clutching Hermione closer to his chest until he squeezed her lungs. "Potter isn't our goal! He was only a means to the goal, but now we don't need him. Killing him would only darken our trail and we'd never find what we're looking for. No, nothing could be gained by fighting them now. Leave them and I'll take care of Granger."

Carrow hissed through his teeth. "You'll regret this, Master; you'll regret letting Potter go unscathed."

"We'll see." Draco turned toward Harry and Ginny to find their faces stark with both fear and confusion.

"What kind of resistance organization _is _this, Malfoy? Whom do you think you're fighting against?" Hermione didn't think she had ever heard that much rage in Harry's voice. It spilled out into his words like poison. "You do realize that the entire country is against you! You succeeded in making headlines, but that's the only thing you'll achieve now. The Ministry has blacklisted you lot. You can't run forever."

"He's right, Malfoy," Ginny cut in, her tone more even than her husband's. "There's nothing to gain from keeping Hermione captive. Let her go and perhaps the Ministry will shorten your sentence."

Draco laughed as if the couple's words meant nothing. "We're not as weak as Britain thinks we are. In time you'll see. And your friend's capture here will serve as a constant reminder of our power. For all the battles you've fought, Potter, I'm surprised you failed this one."

Harry and Ginny fired spells at him, but it was too late. Draco Disapparated with Hermione in his grasp, taking them to a place far from aide.

_"They failed. Harry failed." _The words repeated themselves over and over in Hermione's mind. _"And now I'm once more trapped with Draco Malfoy." _


	5. The Twist

Chapter Five: The Twist

Hermione was thrown to the ground in a heap, sending dust and ash flying in all directions. For several minutes she lay on the floor coughing on dirt and trying to brush ash from her eyes and face. It was not until her vision cleared when she realized where Malfoy had taken her – a run-down shack in the midst of a wide forest. The walls, ceiling and old wood flooring were disgusting shades of brown, and the ash and dirt left blotches of black in random areas. Nothing occupied the tattered room besides herself and her captor, although Hermione guessed that at one time the place could have been inhabited.

She starred in awe at the poor excuse for a shelter, voicing her questions aloud. "Where did you find this place, Malfoy? Are we even in the same country?"

Malfoy, who paced the floor with his lit wand, eyed her with distrust. "Always asking questions, aren't you? Why should I tell a mudblood how I found this dump?"

Hermione ground her teeth in annoyance. "I am _awfully _tired of being talked down to like a second-class citizen or child. I think I have every right to know where we are, considering that you _kidnapped me _and drug me to this heap!"

Malfoy smirked in pleasure, as if he had forgotten that his actions had been kidnapping. "Well, in that case, I'll devolve enough of my careful plans to tell you that we are in a disowned shack in the middle of a wide forest. The owners of this shack left a year ago with all their rubbish and haven't been seen since. I thought nobody would notice if we inhabited this space for a short time. Appeased?"

Hermione barely hesitated before grabbing a handful of dirt and pelting it at the ex-Slytherin. She gasped when he whipped his wand around and cast the dirt back in her face.

Hermione cried out as the new dirt clung to her face and frizzed hair.

_Damn that boy and his quick reflexes! _she cursed to herself.

"I take it you're still unhappy," Malfoy observed, pursing his lips. "Is it any consolation to know that we are far from the rest of the Neo-Death Eaters and their cruel tactics?"

_"No!" _Hermione hissed as she tried to remove the dirt. This task proved impossible for her hands were as covered with dirt as the rest of her body.

Malfoy chuckled at her distress, twirling his wand between his fingers like he alone held the world's power.

"I wouldn't be laughing if I were you, Malfoy!" Hermione spat, hands falling to her sides. "Do you not remember Harry's words to you? This whole 'capture' thing is complete rubbish; you and your mates can never win this game. Just because you managed to keep me with you doesn't mean your side is ahead!"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows with interest. "Oh really? How much do you _know _about this game, Granger?"

Hermione's mouth closed instantly, caught off guard.

"I thought so," Malfoy grinned. "Our plot is complete secret, so don't even try to pry it out of me. It may seem like our cause is hopeless, but soon you all will realize we aren't completely ignorant."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Speaking of complete rubbish, tell your lies to someone who actually cares, Malfoy. So are you going to get my wand back or do I have to take yours?"

Malfoy's eyes lit up with something close to satisfaction. "Neither. You're a lover of adventures, Granger; how about I give you one?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I don't like the sound of your game."

"Well that's too bad, because I'm rather fond of it." Malfoy motioned with his wand to the dense forest outside the empty window. "You wanted to know where we are, so why not go find out yourself? I'm anxious to ring your parents' house tonight to see if you made it."

Hermione growled low in her throat, and Malfoy stepped back a few inches. "Why you foul little…"

"I thought we were through with the childhood name-calling?" He quickly recomposed himself. "I realized your words make sense, Granger, which rarely happens if I might add."

Hermione frowned, unable to conceal her surprise.

"There's no point in keeping you here when you're not what we're after. You were just a tool to get Prince Potter to come to us, but recently we learned that we don't need The Chosen One after all. So why should I deal with a filthy – in the literal sense of the word – little mudblood?" He wrinkled his nose at her grubby appearance. "I have better things to do. So you should get down on your hands and knees and thank me for releasing you at last."

She winced in horror at the thought. "Nev…"

"But before I go, I must ask you a simple question."

Hermione laughed at his unexpected comment. "What new information can I give the _master_ of the Neo-Death Eaters?"

"Just one thing; who were the ones that came to rescue you? The ones you _saw_."

Hermione froze, not comprehending his strategy. Why would he ask such a stupid question? There had to be a catch.

"There's no catch, Granger. Just give me a straight answer."

Hermione pursed her lips indignantly. "Fine. Harry and Ginny. You should know that seeing as you _spoke _to them."

"Hmm." Malfoy stroked his chin in puzzlement as he turned and headed toward the one door in the shack. "Peculiar, isn't it?"

Hermione's frustration reached its peak. "Cut the crap, Malfoy! What are you getting at?"

He gave her the oddest smile then – at first glance he looked _sad, _but then his face changed and the smile became smug.

"Nothing. It's just I thought you were intelligent enough to realize who was with you tonight and who _wasn't._" He Disapparated at the doorstep and left her in darkness and confusion.

Soon the worst pain erupted in her chest. It was worse than the spell Malfoy had hit her with back in her cell or the pain of being thrown off her broom. This was a different kind of pain. For Hermione realized that it was _Harry _who had come to rescue her, not the one whom she thought would. The one she had been dreaming of night after night; the one she longed for so much it felt like her heart would break in two.

Ron had never come for her.

"Hermione?"

She had been walking in a complete daze; she realized it now. She narrowed her eyes to focus her vision on the figure approaching her. If her brain had been functioning, she would have been weary of the figure, but all she could do was halt in the midst of the trees and lean against a trunk.

Right then she didn't care if the person coming for her had good or bad intentions. She was too exhausted to fight them off, anyway.

But tears came to her eyes when she recognized the short statue and fiery ginger hair of a man close to her heart.

"Mr Weasley?"

Arthur Weasley sighed and studied her with intense pity. He took her into his arms straightaway, and the deteriorated state of Hermione's body didn't affect the strength and eagerness of his hug. Tears pooled in her eyes when she realized how long it had been since someone had held her like this. His warmth and security told her she wasn't dreaming. She had found safety at last.

After a long moment of emotional reunion, Mr Weasley held Hermione by the shoulders and studied her thin figure, filthy skin, and greasy hair. His eyes, too, watered when he met the pure desolation on Hermione's face. She held not one emotion back from him; she was too weary to try and mask her pain.

"My dear child, what have they done to you?"

Hermione hated seeing Ron's father so upset, so she mustered a small smile for his benefit. "It could have been worse." Her frail voice was barely audible. "Nothing done to me is long-lasting, Mr Weasley, honest. After a few days' rest I probably will be fine. At least Draco let me go."

Mr Weasley's eyes widened with either fear or shock. "Draco _Malfoy_?"

"How many Dracos are there in this world?" She winced at her pitiful attempt at humour. She was trying too hard to appear unaffected, which was clearly failing.

Mr Weasley gave her another quick squeeze before saying, "Don't worry anymore, Hermione; you're safe. I'm going to take you to the Burrow and I require you to stay until you've healed. We'll ring your parents and explain everything."

Hermione nodded dully before an urgent question sprang to her mind. "Mr Weasley, where are we? Malfoy brought me to a deserted shack a few hours ago, and I've been wandering around this forest ever since. I've been too exhausted to Disapparate, otherwise I would've tried. I was terrified of being stuck here when night…"

Mr Weasley shook his head and cut her off with a flick of his hand. "Stop talking, dear; you're going to wear yourself down even more. We're only a few kilometers from the outskirts of London. You've been close to civilization all this time, although I dread the thought of what might have happened to you in such a busy city. Without a wand and the way you look…" He shook his head again in distress. "Merlin's beard, I'm just glad I found you now. Let's go before we draw any attention. Who knows what may be wandering around the forest now, especially if the other Neo-Death Eaters know where Malfoy brought you."

Hermione had never enjoyed the process of Apparation more than that second when she travelled to the Burrow with Mr Weasley. She did not think about whom or what she might meet when she arrived. All that mattered was the wonderful, undeniable fact that she was now in safe hands…

Hermione was eternally grateful that they Apparated by the shower. Now she could bathe before meeting anyone else.

Mr Weasley brought her a pair of tan trousers, a violet button-down shirt, socks and worn trainers. "They're Ginny's, so they may be a bit small for you, but…"

"No, they'll work fine." Hermione eagerly took the clothes. "I cannot express my gratitude for all…"

"I'll have none of it," Mr Weasley said hastily. "You've always been and will always be welcome amongst my family, Hermione. This is nothing compared to what should have been done for you weeks ago. You have no idea what stress your capture has created among all of us. This is the least we can do for now." Before his voice broke from distress, Mr Weasley cleared his throat and motioned toward the shower. "Take your time in there and we'll have supper ready when you come down to the kitchen. After that you can rest for as long as you wish."

Hermione knew the best way to express her gratitude was to embrace Mr Weasley again, which she did with eagerness. After he had left her alone, Hermione stripped down in the bathroom and longingly turned on the shower. She knew her barriers had completely broken when she wept long and hard under the stream. It had literally been _weeks _since she had been allowed to bathe properly. Her body was encrusted with dirt and sweat, and so many knots and clumps of filth littered her hair that she had to shampoo three times before she was satisfied.

After what seemed to be hours of careful cleansing, Hermione carefully dressed in Ginny's clothes. Even though her body was finally free of dirt, she still avoided the mirror. The dirt may have been easy to remove, but Malfoy's spell had created a decent scar on her stomach and innumerable bruises discoloured her skin in different areas. The last thing she wanted was concerned stares and never-ending questions from her friends.

The fatigue, ever-constant during the long day, hit her with renewed force when her body had relaxed under the warm water. She wanted nothing more than to skip supper and crawl under the duvet, but she knew that her appearance at the table was close to mandatory. She had to get this first meeting out of the way before she could completely relax.

Hermione pulled on the socks and trainers before slowly heading down the stairs into the warm, welcoming kitchen.

There, Hermione met a multitude of concerned and eager faces. She stopped in her tracks as each face turned toward her the moment she entered the kitchen. Her eyes quickly glanced over the faces of Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ginny, Harry, Percy, George, Charlie, and…Ron.

Hermione consciously avoided Ron's hesitant expression. She smiled at the other faces and took the seat Harry eagerly pulled out for her. Before she sat down, Harry embraced her tightly and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he whispered in her ear.

Hermione smiled and mouthed a "thank you" as she sat in her chair. The food in front of her had never looked so freshly made or appetizing, but Hermione knew that even a small portion could make her sick. At least she was certain Mrs Weasley wouldn't be offended.

The table was uncomfortably silent for a moment (with Ron staring anywhere else but at Hermione) before Mr Weasley stood with wine glass in hand.

"I would hate to call this gathering anything close to a 'celebration,' so perhaps Hermione will allow me to call it a meal of appreciation." He smiled affectionately at Hermione, tears glistening in his eyes. "Appreciation for the safe return of someone whom we all love so dearly. We never would have predicted any new danger after the War, but this development has chilled us all. Although we finally have Hermione home safe with us, we never thought it would take so long. We owe it to Hermione to confront this problem with all fierceness, searching for and apprehending those sinister Death Eaters who tried to destroy our happiness."

"Well said, Mr Weasley!" Harry stood with his own glass. "I'd like to add that we should also honour Hermione for her fierce perseverance. We all knew that Hermione was intelligent and strong, but her resolve to keep going no matter what is bloody remarkable. Tonight I ask you to toast our friend who stood against the Death Eaters once more and survived." He raised his glass high. "To Hermione!"

"Hermione!" the rest echoed joyfully, clinking glasses with their neighbours.

Hermione knew how flushed her face was, but she smiled gratefully at the people around her. She had never expected such praise that night, and although she longed for sleep more than appreciation, she could not help but shed a few tears at their love and support.

"Thank you so much." It was all she could say after the salute had ended.

"Are you lot done talking?" George piped up. "This turkey has been taunting me for a millennium."

Hermione smiled fondly at George, although her stomach clenched at the sudden realization of what memories had been uncovered with her dilemma. How come _she_ had survived an encounter with the Death Eaters again when George's twin had not? What made her so special?

She had to commend George for his own fierce resolve to keep living, despite the loss of his closest friend and confidante. He felt it was up to him to continue the pranks and jokes the Weasley twins had been famous for. Their shop in Diagon Alley was still thriving thanks to George's work ethics and part-time assistance from Ron.

Ron…

Hermione's eyes rested for the first time on Ron's freckled face, which was now, she noticed, red with some uncomfortable emotion. He silently ate his food, his eyes never leaving his plate. A painful annoyance rose in her gut. So the tradition had continued: it was to be _Harry _who fought for her survival and spoke loving words to her. Ron had neither the courage nor, seemingly, the want to express to her his emotions.

What the bloody hell was his _problem?_

Hermione had opened her mouth to speak to him when Mrs Weasley, apparently unaware of the tension between her son and Hermione, tried to catch Hermione's attention.

"Hermione, love? As much as you may want to, you shouldn't eat much tonight. The food is too rich for your sensitive stomach, I fear."

Hermione managed a smile, tearing her gaze from Ron. "Of course, Mrs Weasley. I understand. I don't think my stomach can handle this food, either."

So she resigned herself to a glass of water, bread, and a small portion of noodles. Even this pathetic amount felt amazing to her stomach, although she hardly concentrated on the process of eating. She could not keep her mind off Ron, and the more she thought about it the more depressed she became. It was difficult to keep her grief hidden, but suddenly bursting into tears was not the best way to avoid attention.

Ten minutes into the meal, Ron himself broke the quiet side conversations occurring around the table.

"Mum, has the post arrived yet?"

Mrs Weasley frowned at her son's eagerness. "Of course, Ron. You should know when the post…"

"Did I get anything?"

"I think so. One small letter from someone in Wales, I think. I put it on the side table there…"

It was completely unlike herself to be so nosy, but something in her gut warned Hermione that Ron's letter was more than sales rubbish. The small, white envelope remained on the table directly behind her head. Before anyone could magick it from her, she snatched the letter and tore apart the envelope before anyone was any the wiser.

Hermione's instincts turned out to be correct as her eyes quickly scanned the small, curly print of the handwritten letter. A thousand different sensations flooded her mind and body as the reality of the correspondence hit her, but pure shock and rage took over until her hands shook.

Ron recovered first. "_Hermione! Get your bloody hands OFF…"_

"Come and get it, then!" she taunted, pushing her seat back and rushing from the table. She held the letter high above her head like her older cousin used to do when he held a prized toy above her and she was too short to reach. "Apparently this letter was to be kept secret or you wouldn't have cared _who _read it. Didn't you once say we should hold no secrets from each other? It turns out we had different concerns whilst I was on holiday!"

Ron tried to sound calm as he held out his hand, but his face was aflame with anger. "Come off it, Hermione; you don't know what you're doing. Just let me explain…"

She laughed high and cruel. "What, and continue to believe your little game? Now I know why you weren't with Harry when he rescued me from the fortress. Now I know why you've been avoiding me all this time. You've got someone _else _on your mind; haven't you, Ronald Weasley?"

Hermione didn't wait for a response before tearing the letter in half three, four, then five times until it was nothing but scraps of paper littered on the floor. The utter anguish on her ex-lover's face was priceless – he stared at the remains of his letter like it was the remains of his dreams.

Hermione didn't dare face the expressions of the other people at the table. She brushed past Ron like he meant nothing to her and ran up the stairs with as much energy possible.


	6. Draco's Task

Chapter Six: Draco's Task

The wind blasted into the house with the boy's arrival, chilling the hall before the slamming of the bolted door kept it out. Draco Malfoy shivered violently as he unfastened his black cloak and tossed it unconcernedly on the floor. A maid, overhearing his thunderous arrival, shuffled toward the cloak and picked it up without meeting the boy's eyes.

"Where is Father?" Draco demanded of her, undoing his top collar button with haste.

He was in one of his moods again, so the maid knew to give him a simple, direct answer. She could ask no questions about his whereabouts the past few days, though she couldn't help but ponder over his absence. Where could the master's son have gone without his father's consent?

She kept her eyes focused on the dusty stone floor. "He is in his study, Mr Malfoy."

Without another glance at the servant, Draco stormed out of the Entrance Hall and turned left. He unbuttoned his shirt further to let the air cool his chest. Although the weather was chill and blustery, he had exerted himself on the broom ride back. For what reason? He wasn't exactly sure. All he knew was that the recent events and the gossip were doing nothing for his emotional wellbeing.

"Father!"

Lucius Malfoy spun to face his son in his leather seat by the fire. His long, flowing blond hair glistened in the firelight, and when he clasped his hands together, the numerous silver rings on his long fingers sent designs dancing on the ceiling. He raised his eyebrows slightly as his son stormed closer.

"It's all over London! No, it's spread farther than London! Tell me, Father, for I can't seem to understand myself…_why _did I let that little frump go a fortnight ago? She apparently can't keep her large mouth shut and has told the entire wizarding world that Draco Malfoy released her from the Neo-Death Eaters' hold _for no apparent reason!_" He shook from both his emotions and his trip back to the Mansion, hovering over his father like an enraged assassin.

Lucius was not affected by his son's temper. He entwined his fingers together and studied them thoughtfully. "Draco, Draco, you know why you let the Mudblood go. You should not care if she spreads the news to Eastern Europe; the details of her account should please you. She did not speak of a filthy villain who accidentally let her slip away, correct? She spoke of you like you had the human decency to release her from the captivity of the other Death Eaters. She is confused by your actions, which is exactly where we need her to be."

Draco gritted his teeth together to halt an enraged cry. He lowered his voice slightly, trying his best to keep it steady. "You _don't _understand what I'm getting at, Father! I know we should be pleased that she is oblivious to my true intentions, but the tale has become so fabricated that some versions show me as a weak, incompetent kid who can't keep her in my grasp! Do you know what these rumours are doing to our society? No one trusts our power now that they know the leader is a supposed _kid!_"

Lucius rolled his eyes in exasperation. "My son, you are too easily affected by what society thinks of you."

Draco's eyes flashed. "And why shouldn't I be? It's only through the rumours that we can begin to stir up fear and uncertainty among the community…"

"We have plenty of time for that later. As long as you placed the spell on Granger like I ordered, the plan is already in motion."

"A simple tracking spell will do no good now, Father. So what if we know her every move? She knows _nothing!_"

Lucius eyed him suspiciously. "How can you be certain?"

"Multiple Death Eaters interrogated her before my arrival, but she appeared more confused the more questions they asked."

"Rubbish; the girl knows!" Lucius spat. "If there's anyone in this world worthy of knowing the secret, it'd be Hermione Granger."

"What about that ginger-haired weasel…"

"He is too protected while living at the Burrow; he is always with someone else. Granger is constantly moving from work to home, thus making her more vulnerable. She lives with no one, correct?"

Draco shrugged. "I dunno; I don't stalk her. I'd guess that she's under fierce protection now since her capture."

Lucius waved his hand curtly. "Irrelevant. She has to leave the house some time. And since you let her go, perhaps she's…"

Draco narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to his father's eager face. "Stop right there, Father; I know where you're going! Don't even _suggest _that I try to befriend Granger and somehow force her to reveal the details. Do you not recall how intelligent she is? That little Mudblood would be suspicious the moment she saw my face!"

Lucius paused, stroking his chin as his eyes lingered on the fireplace. "Perhaps, but I doubt she'd raise the alarm at your first arrival. She's uncertain of you as a person, Draco. She isn't convinced that you've completely joined the Dark Lord's cause; her stories to the public prove that much. Use that ignorance to your advantage!"

Draco groaned, finding it difficult to listen to his father's optimistic words. "And what if you're wrong, Father? What if she really doesn't know anything? The only option left is to drag Potter to…"

Lucius raised his hand, halting Draco instantly. "Don't even _start _with Potter! That boy's far too protected and he's the first person the Ministry thinks we'll try to get to. No, it's far easier and safer to use the girl. We'll have to consider other options if she truly is ignorant of the location, but I know Potter. He isn't foolish enough to keep the location a dead secret. If something happened to him, he'd want someone else to keep it safe. Who would be a better person than Granger? That girl wouldn't give up the location if she was tortured to death."

"_Exactly!_" Draco cried. "So what makes you think she'll tell me?"

"Because she has weaknesses, Draco; everyone has weaknesses. Find those weaknesses and you won't even have to curse her. Do whatever you have to do to gain her trust, but I'm leaving it up to you. The whole operation rests in your hands, Son. Don't let us down."

Draco could only stare back.

She paced back and forth at least a hundred times, chewing relentlessly on her fingernails as the letter's words flashed in her mind. She couldn't believe it; her mind just couldn't comprehend. How could Ron, the most loveable, loyal boy she'd ever known, do something this terrible? And whilst she was trapped in Hell, no less?

The girl's words created an unbearable nausea, but Hermione couldn't push the letter from her mind. Even with the written words destroyed, she could still relate every part of that letter to someone else –

_Dearest Ronald,_

_You were so kind to treat me to ice cream last night. I haven't been on a date in ages, so it came as a pleasant surprise to be invited along by such a kind, mature boy! I had such a good time; I do hope we can do it again one day._

_I am dreadfully sorry that I could not stay in London longer. My mum and dad live in Wales, you see, so I'm on holiday until university starts again in the autumn. But don't worry; I'll be back in England before you can miss me! _

_Write back to me if you wish; I do enjoy a classic letter now that all I get nowadays are e-mails! Muggles do always want the fastest, easiest communication possible, don't they?_

_Hope this post gets to you in good health!_

_Love,_

_Lucy Larkin _

Hermione dug her fingernails into her palm, but she hardly noticed the pain this caused. Her thoughts were so powerful and harsh she believed the entire household could hear her inner cries.

_She must be the worst kind of goody-two-shoes to have the name Lucy! The way she wrote certainly predisposes her to be of the annoyingly sweet sort. Why, if I ever get my hands on that brat who lured my boyfriend into…_

A sharp knock on her bedroom door jerked her out of her thoughts. She narrowed her eyes at the closed door. "You'd better back away from that door before I send a curse flying through it! I _don't _want to talk to you, Ronald Weasley!"

"But I do," came the reply.

Hermione started, hesitating for a moment before heading toward the door. She was in no mood for an audience as her sanity left her, but yelling at a face was certainly better than yelling in her head.

She slowly opened the door to find a distressed Harry behind it, his forehead already crinkled in a worrisome frown. "Hermione, we need to talk."

Hermione gaped at him. "Excuse me, but are _you _part of this problem? The only person I want to talk to…well, mostly _throw things at _is a ginger-haired git who didn't ever learn the meaning of loyalty."

"He's going to come up later; he's already throwing things downstairs. Mrs Weasley wasn't too happy when her glass vase smashed against the wall…"

"Harry Potter, this is no time for comic relief!" Hermione wiped at her eyes as the tears renewed themselves. It was like puberty all over again - waves of different emotions that wouldn't end.

"I wasn't trying to be funny," Harry replied seriously, gesturing toward her bed. Hermione relented and let him in, and Harry situated himself on the edge of the mattress.

"_Did you know about this?_" Her voice came out high and shrill. She didn't care how childish she sounded to him or how much she was overreacting. The incredulity of the situation had sent her over the edge. How could she have ever prepared for such a situation after she had just _escaped _from a horrific situation?

Harry sighed wearily and rubbed his hands over his face as if he were responsible for Ron's actions. "Hermione, I know how terrible it was for you to read that letter, but you must understand that Ron was going to tell you about Lucy as soon as tomorrow."

Hermione laughed shrilly. "Oh, I'm so glad I was going to be personally informed of this affair in an organized way! And you know her name, too! Did you hear of this _date _before it happened? Did you pat your mate on the back and say, 'Good on you, Ron, for ditching Hermione and going after a more exciting, spunky girl? You needed to shake things up a bit!' Did Mr and Mrs Weasley approve of this girl, too?"

Harry glared at her. "Shut it, Hermione; you don't know what you're saying! Let me speak before you go off on your cruel rants!"

"_Cruel? _You're saying I'm being cruel? If I'm cruel, then how would you describe the actions of the prat downstairs who's throwing stuff at the wall?" Hermione had completely lost it. There was no barrier between what she thought and what she said.

Harry bolted up and grabbed Hermione by the shoulders, staring hard into her eyes to silence her. "Hermione, listen to me for just a minute! Yes, what Ron did was wrong, but you misinterpreted the seriousness of the entire event. Ron and Lucy simply became friends, and Lucy believed things had gone further than they had. They were never actually _dating,_ if you'll believe me at all!"

Hermione glared back, not taking in a word. "You make it seem too simple, Harry; so easy to translate! Well, I'm sorry if I don't believe what you said about their little rendez-vous. I believed Ron was too smart to put himself in that kind of situation. Don't guys fall a lot when confronted with sexual temptation?"

Harry's jaw dropped. "_Sexual temptation? _Hermione, what do you think this thing with Lucy was?"

"I don't know, but how do you know what it _wasn't_?"

Harry groaned and closed his eyes. Taking his hands off her shoulders, he backed away before glancing down at her again. His eyes lost their anger and were replaced with a deep sadness, something Hermione couldn't quite understand.

"I said what I came to say, Hermione. The rest is up to Ron himself. But promise me that you'll actually let him talk? Don't scream at him until you've heard his side of the story."

Hermione took a deep breath before letting out a disgruntled cry. She stormed to the window and tried unsuccessfully to calm her ragged breaths and pounding head.

"Harry, I'm not strong enough for this. All I wanted was to come home to a familiar, comforting family. Now my family has turned on me and I don't know who to trust."

She heard him sigh deeply. "Don't discount us just yet, love. It's not like we switched to Voldemort's side."

A tear fell from her eye as she imagined the possibility. Yes, it was true – however pissed off she was at Ron, she knew he wouldn't betray her in _that _way. He wasn't a Draco Malfoy who randomly switched from side to side whenever the need arose.

Pounding footsteps met her ears, and she turned to find Ron standing in the doorway. Before she could twist her face into a scowl, she noticed his expression. His eyes were wide as he ignored Hermione and turned to Harry.

"Draco Malfoy's crossing the yard to our house," he said. "And he's entirely alone."


	7. The Undying Topic

Chapter Seven: The Undying Topic

Harry did not pause long to let Ron's pronouncement sink in before he bolted from the room. Ron cast Hermione one terrified glance before he followed Harry down the stairs.

Hermione's body froze as she stared at the empty doorway. Malfoy? Malfoy following her _here? _

She could not possibly imagine all the circumstances that could occur to make Draco Malfoy think it was safe or logical to wander carelessly onto the Weasleys' territory. Ron and Harry were Aurors, after all…

After a moment's hesitation, Hermione jumped from the window sill and took Harry and Ron's path down the stairs to the front door. The Weasleys had not bothered to greet their rival at the doorway itself; they had instead all congregated several metres from the house to block Malfoy from venturing any further than the front yard.

Hermione regretted her delay in the bedroom as she tried to move around the tall men in front of her. She wanted to see Malfoy's face herself; she wanted to be able to speak to him face-to-face!

Despite her lack of height compared to the males, no one seemed willing to let her in on the action. Ron, who lingered in the back of the group, grabbed Hermione's arm as soon as he noticed her.

"Don't you _dare _move an inch," he hissed, his face the most serious Hermione had seen it since the War. "Do you want that foul rat to grab you again?"

Hermione slapped his hand away but remained where she was. "If you're trying to be my hero you're a little too late!" Ron's eyes darkened, but Hermione ignored whatever emotion he'd acquired from her words. He needed to feel the pain that he'd brought upon her.

Draco's voice rang in her ears then, as if he'd only just begun to speak. Hermione couldn't see him through the mass of bodies protecting her, but she could easily imagine what his expression held from his transparent voice.

"I wasn't expecting such a warm gathering at my arrival! I admit I didn't think any of you would wish to bestow thanks upon me for returning Hermione to you safely, but my schedule has thankfully opened up for a few minutes of worship and heart-felt gestures."

"Cut the bullshit, Malfoy; we see through your twisted words as well as we did before," Harry hissed. His voice travelled back to her from about the same distance as Malfoy's had, so she guessed Harry was at the front of the group, standing the closest to Malfoy. "How daft must you be to come alone and unguarded to a place full of your rivals? Is this a suicide mission or are you trying to play mind games with us again? You may have persuaded part of the Ministry that your intentions with the Death Eaters are innocuous, but we know the truth. We don't know why you set Hermione free, but we know it was anything but innocent. You'd be wise to leave now if you don't want to be caught in a fire of spells."

Malfoy laughed cruelly, and this action mocked them worse than his next words. "So knowledgeable, aren't you, Potter? You have me all figured out. If you know my true intentions, then why don't you take the next step? I don't wish to work my way through a queue of gits to get to her. You can make this visit short and sweet if you wish to."

Silence. Hermione wished she could see Harry's face, but she imagined him to be glaring Draco down as the Death Eater smirked self-righteously.

"Hermione, get in the house," Ron muttered, grabbing her arm again and pushing her toward the Burrow.

"What? No, I want to…"

"_Go! _Before he knows you're…"

"I already know she's back there, Weasley; you don't have to act so gallantly," Malfoy shouted back.

Hermione's eyes widened as Ron stared incredulously toward the direction of his voice.

"Come and get her, then!" Ron cried after a moment of stunned silence. He pushed Hermione behind him and pulled out his wand, though he merely faced his father's back. Malfoy was still hidden from view.

"Ron, don't be so stupid!" Hermione hissed, struggling to push past him. She had never noticed how muscular and strong he was until now when she had to try and break free of his grip. "Just let me talk to him. I'm sure he won't hurt me!"

Now it was not just Ron who had positioned themselves in front of Hermione. Mr Weasley, George, Ginny, and Harry had formed a half-moon around her, Harry still in the front and directly in Draco's face. All but Hermione had their wands out.

She heard Draco sigh loudly. "Do you lot always treat her like a child? Did any of you idiots notice that I am wandless and hence incapable of attacking any of you? For God's sake, I simply wish to speak to Granger alone for a few minutes."

Hermione's confusion probably mirrored the expressions of her friends. So Draco Malfoy arrives at the Burrow wandless and alone simply to speak to Hermione like an old _friend? _

_I don't understand any of it, _she thought hastily. _Malfoy's actions don't seem to fit his character. Perhaps it's someone else impersonating Malfoy?_

Malfoy seemed to realize he wasn't going to win easily. "Potter, listen to me for once in your life. Stand here and be Granger's personal guard as I chat with her further down the lawn. If you think I am going to harm her in any way - which would be rubbish - you can zap into your hero mode and rescue the poor damsel before the villain scars her pretty face. Can I make this any easier than I already have?"

Harry apparently had made up his mind while Malfoy was speaking. "There's no force on this Earth that will make me give you permission to even lock _eyes _with Hermione. Understood?"

Malfoy sighed again. "I was afraid it would come to this."

Hermione held her breath as she waited for the inevitable blast to come from either Harry's or Malfoy's wand. But silence continued to reign, making the group increasingly nervous.

Finally Harry, the one with the best view, let out an audible gasp and cried, "Draco Malfoy, you lay one _finger _on…"

"That's up to you, Potter. As I said, I am wandless so it would be in your best interest to obey me. Give me five minutes with Granger; that's all I'm asking."

An enraged growl rose from Harry's throat. "Damn you, Malfoy; you arrogant sod! Can't you just leave us alone for once? Can you not survive without causing distress to _someone _in this world?"

Hermione could almost hear Malfoy sneering. "Once again, your narrow-minded views stop you from believing I could be doing this for someone other than myself. But I don't have time to discuss personal morals with you, Potter. I'll give you ten seconds to decide…"

"Malfoy, give me my wand _this instant_!"

All gawked at Hermione as she appeared at Harry's side two metres from Malfoy. She opened her palm and narrowed her gaze at her enemy. Draco had her wand between his hands and had apparently been threatening to break it. Harry's face was pale as if she had risen from the dead. "Hermione, how did you…"

"It's called _Apparition_, Harry, and it doesn't have to occur from a far distance!" Hermione did not tear her gaze from Malfoy's. Her wand was one of the few remaining from Ollivander and it would be impossible to replicate if destroyed. "Malfoy, I'll grant you the honour of a stroll through the field if you'll give me back something which is rightfully _mine_!"

Draco smiled as if seeing her after a long separation. "Granger, how glad I am to see you clean and…"

"_Give _me my wand or Harry will curse you to the ground!" she cried, her voice rising hysterically. She was through with his games; what gave him permission to act like this?

"As you wish," he replied, flinging her wand in her direction. Harry caught it first, glaring hard at Malfoy as he passed it to Hermione. She let out a deep sigh, relishing the feel of her wand between her fingers. How had she survived without it for that long? It was so much a part of her.

Hermione turned to Harry and looked him in the eye desperately. "Harry, let me speak with this rat for a few minutes. I know we don't owe him anything, but the quicker we oblige him the quicker he'll go away."

Harry closed his eyes and groaned before nodding his head in defeat. "Fine. But we'll all be watching you, and if he makes one move…"

"I know, Harry, but I'll be fine. I'm the one with the wand, after all."

Without waiting for someone else to object, Hermione passed the invisible barrier separating Dumbledore's followers from the Death Eater. She narrowed her eyes and studied Malfoy carefully, but after seeing no other weapon upon his person, she said curtly, "This way."

She saw Draco cast one last sneer at Harry before following Hermione away from the house and toward an old, broken fence outlining the dimensions of the sheep pen. She sat down on the slivered wood before glancing up expectantly.

"So? What life-or-death situation brought you to your enemies' front steps?"

Draco ignored her for a moment, focusing intently on a sheep grazing far off in the pasture. Finally he turned and studied her almost as intently as she was studying him.

"Granger, was it ever explained to you why your interrogations stretched on for days?"

Hermione frowned, slightly startled by his question. She had not expected him to bring up her days in the prison, mostly because she didn't want to relive those days. Ever again.

"No. Nothing much was explained to me as I starved to death in that puny cell. But I expected nothing better from such heartless fiends like your lot."

Draco winced, but Hermione could tell it was an act. "That hurts, Granger; I thought you were unsure of my position among those 'fiends.' Has it ever crossed your conscience that I may be after my own purposes? That I don't share the ambitions of those who stood at the side of the Dark Lord?"

"Harry was right; you do try too hard to play mind games with us. Can't you just speak the truth for once? Usually it's easier to trust people when you know that what they speak is fact."

Draco analyzed her steadily, making Hermione uncomfortable. "How do you know I'm not speaking fact?"

She tore her gaze away, startled by the shiver that ran up her arms with the connection. Something about him unnerved her, as if the intenseness of his stare could push down the barriers in her mind and body. She had never experienced anything like it with any other man…

"Please, Malfoy, just tell me what you're here for. You've created enough tension among us for a good year."

Malfoy snorted. "You're easily spooked, all of you. A wandless lad strolls up to your house and you act like World War III is at your door!"

Hermione's jaw clenched as her rage flared up. "Well, what can you expect when their best friend has just returned from holiday in a cold cell? And word has it you _are _the brains of the operation, Malfoy. Don't I recall you being referred to as 'Master'? Carrow doesn't use that title for just anyone. No wonder no one trusts you to not act with hostility!"

Malfoy stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels, as if the conversation had made him restless. "If I tell you something, Granger, will you take me seriously?"

"Did you not just listen to a word I said?" Hermione gasped.

"For your own good, will you listen to me?"

It was hard not to take him seriously, Hermione realized, with that look of desperation on his face. He seemed to be walking on nails, hesitant to speak yet knowing he must. Was this a different side of Draco Malfoy coming out or was he just a brilliant actor?  
Hermione paused for as long as she felt safe to, picking at encrusted dirt on her trainer. She peered back up, hoping to find his expression back to that classic Draco-look of arrogance, but he still stared at her with pleading eyes.

She pursed her lips in deliberation. "Tell me and I'll consider whether it's worth pondering over."

Draco groaned. "You're still a stubborn bookworm who thinks she's been gifted with All-Knowing powers. Will it affect you when I say that what I'm about to present is information crucial to your survival?"

Hermione's lips twitched into a half smile. "Now you're sounding like Trelawney. 'You shall meet your doom with the rising of the full moon'! How do you know anything about my survival?"

"How ironic, then, that I'm speaking to you on the evening of a full moon," Draco gestured to the sky, where Hermione glimpsed the silhouette of a rounded moon in the darkening sky. "What do you know about werewolves, Hermione Granger?"

She narrowed her eyes, growing tired of the conversation with each passing second. "That subject is completely irrelevant, Malfoy, and you know it. Unless I am to be bitten by a werewolf tonight, I see no point in you forewarning me."

"What if I told you that the werewolves are just another species after what you lot have hidden?"

This caught her attention. She guessed what he was after the moment he spoke the word 'hidden.' "_Don't _start on that again, Malfoy. You know very well that your minions have asked me again and again where 'the weapon' is hidden, and you also know that I hold no knowledge whatsoever about that. I believe you're making it all up, trying to make the Neo-Death Eaters believe we have a weapon to finish you off. Soon enough, though, they will realize that we're as close to producing the Ultimate Weapon of Destruction as your side is."

A fierce howl broke the air, startling Hermione out of her thoughts. She almost fell off the fence as she instinctively twisted around to peer behind her at the empty pasture.

"What the…"

Malfoy hushed her, staring fiercely into the woods. His eyes darkened. "Damn," he muttered.

"Malfoy, you're becoming creepier by the second. That howl did not sound like an animal to me, so I'm guessing it's one of your mates signaling to you to play 'tag' in the woods. I suggest you follow him, for as far as I'm concerned this conversation – if you can even call it that – is over!"

Before she could get far, Malfoy grabbed her arm and gave her one of his piercing looks. "Granger, if you're lying to me you're only bringing death upon yourself. Trust me this once; I can help you."

She twisted herself out of his grasp. "Even if I _did _trust you, Draco, I wouldn't willingly ask for your help. I haven't called you my enemy for years for nothing."

Without meeting his eyes again (because that only weakened her), Hermione brushed him off and walked back toward Harry and Ron. She had only one wish in her mind then – that Draco Malfoy never sought her out for the rest of her life.


	8. Confrontation

Chapter Eight: Confrontation

They watched the silhouette of Draco Malfoy walk off toward the woods for what seemed like endless minutes.

After a long silence, Harry turned to Hermione and said, "What did he want with you, Hermione? What was so important that he felt compelled to forfeit his own safety by coming here?"

Hermione shrugged, unable to voice aloud all the thoughts flying through her head. So many of his actions the past few months didn't add up: Draco being named as the head of the Neo-Death Eaters; Draco kidnapping her after her attempted escape but then releasing her; rumours that he wasn't actually plotting with the Death Eaters; and finally the ridiculous conversation they had had minutes ago. What did it all add up to?

Confusion. Doubt. Who _was _Draco Malfoy right now?

"Harry, I don't know what to think right now. His actions don't match his character, or at least the character we've known for years. What if someone is impersonating him with Polyjuice? Or what if he finally realized that following his father is a stupid idea?"

Harry frowned down at her. "Don't go there, Hermione; we all know that Draco's intentions, whatever they are, point toward nothing good. As far as Polyjuice Potion is concerned, we'll have to keep an eye on his actions for awhile. We'll go to the Ministry if we have solid evidence that Draco is not himself and possibly being impersonated. Perhaps we can track him…"

"Bloody hell, Harry; you know what this reminds me of?" Ron faced Harry directly and avoided catching Hermione's eye. "Sixth year and your _obsession _with Malfoy's every movement. That got you nowhere in the end, so why do we have to do the same now?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Because I was only tracking him inside _Hogwarts_, Ron, in sixth year, and now we can track him all over England! I'll speak to the Minister and get permission, because tracking spells are generally discouraged among Ministry officials. I bet the Ministry's keeping close tabs on him, anyway, if the rumours are correct that he's the head of the Neo-Death Eaters."

"If he is," Hermione interjected, "he's doing a rubbish job of it. I've heard they've stopped their invasions and Muggle torturing, but I can't figure out why. My guess is that they're after something more important…"

Both Ron and Harry turned to her with wide, fearful gazes. Harry put a hand on her shoulder and looked deeply into her eyes. He resembled her father trying to get a secret out of her.

"Hermione," Harry said slowly and carefully, "did you give Malfoy any impression that there _was _something important to go after?"

Hermione bit her lip, although she knew her actions had been innocent. "Err…no. I mean, I never spoke about anything like that! I told him that it's rubbish if he thinks our side is creating some great destruction weapon. I don't know if he suspects something or just _wants _to suspect something, but I swear I gave away absolutely no sign…"

"Okay, okay, Hermione." Harry squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "I believe you; you don't have to convince me of anything. But still, I think we should track him. If he starts to organize search parties or the like, we'll have to come up with a Plan B."

Hermione pulled down the sleeves of her jumper as chills raced up her arms. "I don't want to think about that, Harry. I don't want to imagine what would happen if Malfoy found…"

"He won't find it!" Ron shouted too loudly for their whispered conversation. "We won't _ever_ let that weak sod find it. We took too many precautions when we buried it; it can't and won't be found."

Harry nodded his head contemplatively as he stared out at the empty woods. "Agreed, Ron. Let's not speak of it anymore; you never know who may be listening, especially if Malfoy really wasn't alone when he ventured here. Care for a nightcap, Ron? Hermione?"

Ron eagerly ventured with Harry into the house while Hermione dragged behind. She wished there was a spell or potion that would halt all unwanted thoughts and memories. Perhaps a good sleeping potion was warranted that night…

When she finally did close her eyes, however, Hermione fell asleep without extra aide. But the images she had fought during the day rose deep from her subconscious and terrorized her sleep. The dream was more like the real memory than invented images…

_"Harry, are you sure this is the spot McGonagall picked out?"_

_ Harry turned back to her with his deep, thoughtful green eyes. He masked his fear well, for he led them through the woods without one shaky step. _

_ "I rechecked the location fifty times, Hermione, so don't keep asking me the rest of the trip."_

_ Hermione sighed wearily, pulling her robes higher off the forest floor as she checked for any protruding branches and roots. _

_ Ron, who had been lagging behind, rushed up toward Harry. "Harry, you have made this girl walk through too many woods. She's going to catch her death out here in the cold or sprain her ankle on a root…"_

_ Hermione rolled her eyes, although she was amused by her boyfriend's overprotective nature. "Ronald, I am not a pretentious indoor girl who can't walk through a bit of dirt. Who do you think camped out with Harry all those weeks during the War?"_

_ Ron ignored her and unexpectedly lifted her off her feet and pulled her into his arms. _

_ "RONALD WEASLEY, put me DOWN! I am perfectly capable of…"_

_ "You think I'd let my princess get her delicate feet cramped and dirtied on yet another woodland adventure? What kind of boyfriend do you think I am?"_

_ "A domineering and stubborn one…" Harry muttered._

_ Ron glared at his friend's back before setting Hermione on the ground. "Just don't say I do _nothing _for you," he murmured, making her laugh and push him away playfully. _

_ "Quiet, you two; I think this is it."_

_ Hermione's smile vanished as she crept up to Harry. The patch of dirt where Harry had halted did not stand out among the rest of the forest. There weren't any visible signs which confirmed the location as the correct one. _

_ "Harry, um, how are we supposed to find this spot again? In a…in an emergency?" _

_ Harry looked up at her with a furrowed brow. He directed his wand at the tree growing to his right, its trunk mossy and overgrown with roots. With a muttered spell, two branches intertwined themselves into a shape Hermione strangely thought resembled a heart. _

_ "That should help us find it again, that and I memorized the coordinates so we'll be able to track it down the Muggle way with a compass. You know that we can't leave any physical hint of the location lying around, even if we locked it up in Gringotts. The wand is too dangerous to be kept in any ordinary place."_

_ With those words, Harry withdrew the Elder Wand from his pocket, barely glancing at it as he placed it in the dirt. He then took his own wand and directed it at Dumbledore's. "Incarcero!" Instantly, a square of solid cement encased the deadly wand. _

_ Hermione, who had been watching Harry with a muddled mind, broke out of her reverie and directed her wand at the spot Harry had indicated. A small explosion sprang up from under the ground, creating a hole about six feet deep and two feet wide. Harry wasted no time before levitating the cement box and letting it fall deep within the hole. Hermione covered it up with piles of dirt and grass, flattening off the top to create the illusion of an undisturbed spot._

_ Harry wiped sweat from his forehead with a shaking hand. "Well, that's all McGonagall asked us to do. The three of us, excluding her, are the only ones who know the exact location of this wand. You both know what that means?"_

_ Ron and Hermione nodded desolately as they formed a small circle beside Harry. _

_ "I've already made the Vow with McGonagall, as you know, Ron, since you were our Bonder." Harry's voice dropped as he peered around them cautiously. "Then he made the Vow next, but we didn't yet do you, Hermione. I wished it didn't have to turn into something this serious, but McGonagall convinced me otherwise. It's safer this way."_

_ Harry swallowed hard as he watched Hermione and Ron hesitantly link right arms. Harry pointed his wand at their hands, and there was a terrible silence before Ron spoke:_

_ "Do you, Hermione, promise to keep this trip a complete secret from any living being?"_

_ "I will," Hermione replied strongly._

_ Tongues of fire from Harry's wand wrapped themselves around the couple's hands. _

_ "Will you swear to never disclose even part of the location of the wand to any living being?"_

_ "I will."_

_ More tongues wrapped steadily around their hands._

_ "Lastly, do you promise to never take the wand and use it for your own purposes without the consent of McGonagall, Harry, or I?" _

_ "I will." _

_ The tongues continued to swirl, making Hermione's promise as concrete as the box the dreaded weapon was enclosed in…_

The darkness closed around Hermione, and it took awhile for her to realize that she was staring at the almost indiscernible ceiling of her bedroom. She was shaking and sweating profusely, chills running up and down her body like the flu. She rose slowly, clutching her stomach and concentrating on her breathing.

Why was the Elder Wand suddenly haunting her? It had to be because of Malfoy, she quickly decided. His horrible interrogations had unnerved her, although she had disclosed nothing even resembling a hint at the location. Her worst fear, though, was that he suspected something. Some part of her behaviour had tipped him off…

_Shut up, Hermione! That kind of thinking will only destroy you! If Malfoy had any idea that I knew, he would have kidnapped me again and questioned me with added torture. His disappearance yesterday only proves that he did not suspect me of withholding information. _

As she prepared herself to return to sleep, a familiar howl blasted into her room. She bolted upright with a yelp, clutching her heart.

She made up her mind in a millisecond. She was determined to be proactive instead of sitting alone in her bedroom terrified out of her mind. If Malfoy was going to haunt her thoughts, she might as well confirm for herself that there was nothing to be afraid of.

Thus, with more fear than she was willing to admit, Hermione crept out of the Burrow with only a thin coat and her wand. She saw a soft light flicker in the forest, and it was too small and contained to be the beginnings of a forest fire.

It had to be some sort of watch fire.

She kept all thoughts and fears walled off as she ventured slowly toward the fire. She crept along cautiously to keep her feet from snapping any loose twigs, but stumbling upon the site without a sound was impossible. She suddenly hated herself for not stealing Harry's invisibility cloak from his room. She halfway hoped, however, that there would be nothing but a lone fire once she inched closer…

Her faint hopes were extinguished when she heard the easily distinguishable voice of Draco Malfoy within the trees. He stood only a few hundred metres from the forest edge, which Hermione thought was foolish. Did he really think no one would find him here?  
But as Hermione stepped closer to Malfoy (who had his back to her), she noticed that he was not alone. Racing behind a thick trunk, she peered around the corner to find seven tall, shirtless men appear beside the fire. Their chests were deeply tanned and muscled, they wore no shoes of any kind, and their eyes glowed such a fierce red that a sweeping fear encompassed her.

So hypnotized by their eyes, she missed the first words Draco spoke to them. She shook her head to dispel the sensation and focused on the conversation.

"How do we know you speak the truth?" the man closest to Draco spoke, his eyes wide and dead-set on Malfoy. Hermione wondered how Malfoy, himself, remained so controlled whilst in their presence. "You don't possess the same aura as your father, young Malfoy. You could already know everything after speaking with Granger and plan to keep the information from us. Did the Mudblood poison your thoughts?"

"Always afraid of deceit, aren't you, Rubin?" Draco shot back, his voice full of confidence. "Granger knows nothing; this I am sure of. We must forget her and seek elsewhere for the location."

Rubin, apparently the leader of the group, eyed him carefully. "There is a reason why I am weary of you, Draco. I sense something odd about this whole situation …why did you let the Mudblood go so suddenly? Why have you not contacted the rest of the Death Eaters since returning to the Manor? Surely there is more reason behind your actions than one would expect. Why are you tracking Granger?"

"You fell for the rumours as well? How foolishly naïve, Rubin; I expected more from you."

Rubin and a few of his companions let out a low snarl and approached the defenseless wizard, trapping him among the sprawling trees. Hermione's pulse quickened and she held her breath, for suddenly it was all too clear: Draco Malfoy was speaking to a pack of werewolves.

Malfoy's previous words to her convinced her of this fact: _"What do you know about werewolves, Hermione Granger?...What if I told you that the werewolves are just another species after what you lot have hidden?"_

Hermione wanted to scream at him to run, to save himself before the werewolves attacked or worse…bit him. For some reason, she cared what happened to Malfoy. She didn't wish to see him torn into a million pieces before her eyes…

"I do believe there is some truth to the rumours," Rubin continued, a nasty glint in his red eyes. "There is a certain…oddness about your closeness to her. Did you spike her pumpkin juice with a love potion, Malfoy?"

Hermione released a gasp, inadvertently shifting her weight so her right foot landed on a broken branch. The wood broke with an echoing _snap_, and Hermione froze with terror. She stopped breathing as silence filled the woods, and drops of perspiration grew on her forehead.

A hand reached out and grabbed her forearm, hauling her to the centre of the group. Draco Malfoy glared down at her with uncontrolled rage, his teeth bared and eyes flashing in unison with Rubin. To Hermione, there was no physical difference between Malfoy and the werewolves. Draco looked as deadly as the forests' beasts.

"Well, Granger, care to share your opinion on the issue?" Draco hissed. "For surely you've heard all that was spoken."


	9. Uncontrollable Circumstances

Chapter Nine: Uncontrollable Circumstances

Hermione was unable to tear her gaze from Malfoy's fierce glare, though her mind screamed at her to fight or at least try to Apparate. It was like Malfoy was a curse all his own, his presence making it impossible for her to think or move properly.

Rubin was the first to break the unbearable silence. "Ah, I was wondering when your girlfriend would show up, Draco. Seems you really _don't _leave her side."

Rubin's words took Malfoy out of his staring contest with Hermione. Still holding tightly to her arm, Malfoy growled low in his throat and pushed Hermione behind him.

Malfoy leaned over to snarl in her ear, "Even _think _about breaking free, Granger, and you'll never see your dear Ronald again."

She believed him, though she couldn't figure out why. Hermione was slowly becoming convinced that Malfoy _could_ play mind games with anyone.

"I've heard good things about you, Granger," Rubin addressed her, making Hermione shiver compulsively. This particular werewolf was the most intimidating and seemed to stare into her soul with a single look. "You fared particularly well under the Neo-Death Eaters' hold. I was told you have a strong backbone and don't give up easily. Strong attributes to have…particularly among our pack."

Draco's grip tightened on her arm until Hermione feared him cutting off circulation. "Take one step toward her, Rubin, and I'll exclude you from all dealings in the contract."

A few pack members in the back muttered and hissed, but Rubin grinned wider. "Young Malfoy, I would never lay a finger on her if it was against your wishes. You understand how much our pack _needs _to be involved in the hunt."

Somehow Hermione doubted his words. His tone mocked them and increased the chill in her body. She kept thinking how easy it would be for one of the werewolves to spring and attack without warning.

And that wasn't her only concern.

"Draco…Draco, the full moon…" She tugged away from Malfoy's grip and motioned with her head to the silver orb behind the veil of thin clouds. Any moment the clouds would break and unleash Hell around Hermione and Draco.

"Hush, Granger!" Draco narrowed his eyes at her like her fears were childish.

"Don't fret, Hermione; there is nothing to fear." Hermione scowled as Rubin spoke to her slowly and consolingly like a close friend or parent. It was more than condescending - it was terrifying. "We've all taken the Draft today, so you're not in harm's way."

"How can I believe you?" Hermione struggled to make her voice as collected as Draco's, but it came out high and shaky. She knew the werewolves sensed her fear as plainly as they sensed the coming of the full moon.

Rubin flashed shining fangs at her. "Why would I harm you when you're the only hope for the Neo-Death Eaters? They need information from you that is crucial for their rise in society. If they don't get you to speak, they're as worthless as…"

"Shut _up, _Rubin! When will you learn to hold your tongue?" Draco almost shook with rage, and Hermione struggled to be released, but Draco held her closer to his side.

Rubin raised his eyebrows mockingly. "You don't think she's figured that much out already? You insult her intelligence, Malfoy. She needs to know how much danger she's in if she doesn't comply with your requests."

Before Hermione could process his words, Malfoy raised his wand and fired an unknown spell at the werewolves. At that same moment, the clouds broke and poured beams of light onto the forest floor.

"_Run_, Hermione!"

Draco pushed her fiercely away from him, but Hermione's mind couldn't catch up. She struggled to her feet, peering behind her in a daze to watch as several pairs of silver and grey wolves lunged at Malfoy. She wanted to scream, but her voice had left her. A blast from Malfoy's wand destroyed her daze, and she bolted from the battle and dashed around the maze of trees. She concentrated only on the pounding of her feet on the dirt and her frantic breaths, but that didn't stop the snarls and barks from reaching her ears.

Her senses returned to her forcefully when she reached the outskirts of the forest and saw the still, comforting form of the Burrow.

_What are you doing, Hermione? _she screamed at herself. _Draco's going to _die _there alone and you're running away like a coward? _

She shook so fiercely she had trouble reaching for her wand. As she grasped it and rushed back into the trees, Draco Malfoy came bolting from the opposite direction and crashed into her. His weight crushed her to the ground, but that lasted only a moment before he dragged her upright and screamed in her face.

"What the _hell _was that, Granger? I told you to save your own skin and you're rushing back like an ignorant…"

"I was trying to save _your _skin if you care at all, Malfoy!" she shrieked back, pushing her wand into his heaving chest. "Or should I have left you to die by yourself?" Draco's shirt was torn in several places and blood gushed from deep claw marks on his chest and arms, but he was clearly alive, which destroyed Hermione's fears and let the anger form.

"Those beasts would never have killed me!" He crossed his arms arrogantly like he was certain of that fact. "They'd all be dead by morning if that had happened; my father would have seen to that…"

It took all of Hermione's strength not to slap him across the face. "Oh, well excuse me for showing some compassion! Next time I'll remember to save myself and let you perish! And can you imagine that I actually felt _fear _for you when you were talking to those werewolves?"

A corner of Malfoy's mouth curved up in a smirk like he doubted her words. "You always jump to conclusions, Granger, because you think you know all. But this time, trust me to handle things on my own. It may do you some good."

"_Ha!_" Hermione laughed openly in his face. "When have I ever trusted you to handle things properly? At the very least, you owe me an explanation for what I heard and saw! Apparently I'm essential to the workings of your plan, so I'd better be aware of what dangers I'm facing. Even the werewolves know of my position in this whole thing!"

Instantly, Malfoy's expression changed. He lost the mocking look in his eyes and gazed at her with something resembling alarm. "Knowing will only put you in more danger. If the Neo-Death Eaters find out what you heard tonight, they'll be after you without warning. They want you as ignorant as possible. Keep your mouth shut if you know what's good for you, Granger. Speaking of this to _anyone_, even Potter and Weasley, is an instant death sentence."

His words were supposed to create fear in her, but they only caused her anger to rise. "But I still know _nothing_, Malfoy, so how can I be in danger?"

His eyes narrowed further. "You know enough. It's all too obvious that you know of what we're speaking of, and I know that you won't…"

Hermione couldn't control the panic that tightened her gut and froze her mind. It must have been visible on her face, for Draco's expression suddenly mirrored hers and he let out a soft gasp.

"You made the Vow, didn't you?"

Hermione's jaw dropped slightly, which was all the confirmation Malfoy needed. The truth was out: Malfoy knew not only of her knowledge of the Elder Wand, but also that she had sworn to protect that secret. What he would do with that knowledge was the worst part of Hermione's trepidation and it kept her heart racing.

Malfoy didn't hesitate for long before bridging the gap between them and locking stern eyes with her.

"You've put yourself in a poisonous situation, Hermione Granger. What were you and your mates thinking when you performed the Vow? Making it was the beginning of the end for you, for eventually someone on the other side would realize the truth. Now I have no choice but to act on mere instinct, which won't be enjoyable for either of us."

Hermione waited with bated breath for the moment when Malfoy began torturing her…

But that moment never came. Malfoy simply pushed her aside and motioned toward the Burrow with impatience. "Get inside before the werewolves realize you're still out here. But be prepared, Granger…our next meeting is closer than you realize."

Hands shaking at her side, Hermione cast a final petrified look at him before spinning on her heel and running back to the Burrow.

Hermione did not fall asleep until well past dawn. She kept replaying the night's events over and over in her head, but she wasn't able to ease her tightened stomach or calm her racing thoughts. What confused her most was why they were determined to get the information out of _her _instead of Harry, Ron or another member of the Ministry. She knew contemplating every aspect of the dilemma was worthless. Now that Malfoy knew the truth – that she knew the Elder Wand's location and had made the Vow to protect it – it wouldn't be long before he told his father, the other Neo-Death Eaters, the werewolves, and any other creature still supporting Voldemort.

But some part of her doubted that Malfoy would tell everyone what he knew. He seemed to be cautious about disclosing information, even to the werewolves. He had told the werewolves that she knew nothing, hadn't he? And yet he _did _know that she knew. And when he was talking about the other Death Eaters, he kept referring to them as 'them' not 'us.' _"If the Neo-Death Eaters find out what you heard tonight, they'll be after you in an instant. They want you as ignorant as possible."_

The more she thought about it, the more her nausea rose. There was only one truth to it all – she was no longer safe to live quietly with Ron and Harry.

Malfoy would return soon, and when he came back for her, she may never leave his side again.

Draco Malfoy was not getting any sleep, either, as he rested on a pile of straw in an abandoned barn close near the Weasleys' place. He could not get his encounter with Granger out of his mind, nor could he forget the last letter he had received from his father.

It was because of this letter that Draco had promised himself he would not return to the Manor any time soon. He would be on the run, sleeping in abandoned building after abandoned building until he came up with a safe plan. He worried not only about Granger's safety if he couldn't accomplish what he had been forced to do.

Pulling out a crumpled and torn piece of parchment out of his pocket, Draco read through the contents of his father's letter for the thirteenth time:

_Son,_

_ I held an important meeting with Carrow the previous night. He divulged to me new information that changes everything._

_ Carrow confessed that he has been studying Legilimancy for quite some time, and while the Mudblood was incarcerated, he saw a discrete image of her and Potter burying something underground. This cannot be anything but what we seek. __Granger knows__, Draco. She is lying to you, and you must do whatever is in your power to make her confess._

_ If this cannot be completed within a fortnight, we will take her and torture her until she either confesses or asks for death. If she does die in your hands, Son, don't be alarmed – her death will only draw Potter to you, and he'll surely give up the location once seeing Granger dead. _

_ May the Dark Lord protect you as you fight for what is rightfully ours. Remember whom you are doing this for._

_ Your Father_

Draco's heart pounded unevenly as he studied the carefully written words. His father had brought up a very important question in his letter, and it was not related to Granger's knowledge of the Elder Wand.

_Who am I doing this for? _


	10. Desertion

Chapter Ten: Desertion

Hermione didn't know how many hours she had slept, but from the complete exhaustion that weighed down each of her limbs, she guessed it couldn't have been more than five. Her head spun when she sat up to study the small rays of light filtering through her curtains.

Her bedside clock read 6:57, and although no one would kill her for sleeping a few more hours, she was positive she wouldn't be able to fall back into her dreams. For the first time, she disliked her temporary reprieve from work at the Ministry. Her boss at the Department for Magical Law Enforcement had told her to "take off as many weeks as she wished", but she suddenly realized that a strict, regular work routine was just the medicine she needed.

Regardless of her temporary "holiday", Hermione realized with a sickening sensation that it was quite possible for her to never return to work again. If Malfoy kidnapped her for good and she was either killed by the Neo-Death Eaters or forever on the run from them, having a normal life with a job, husband and family were next to impossible…

_Stop it! _she cried in her mind as her eyes stung with oncoming tears. She turned away from the full-length mirror in her bedroom and concentrated on combing through her long, frizzy brown hair. _You can't jump to conclusions and throw your life away like that! Whatever happens will happen, and you can neither stop the future nor think the rest of your life is destroyed. _

It was difficult to keep up her positive thinking, so instead she froze her mind – which was becoming easier by the minute – and headed downstairs for a quick breakfast. Her stomach was not eager to digest anything that morning, but she had to keep up some resemblances to a normal routine for Harry, Ron and the rest.

Ron. She groaned even thinking his name. She had had no time to contemplate over the "Lucy situation" with all the Draco Malfoy crap in her life. Perhaps, if nothing happened within the next few days, she'd be able to get some _real _answers out of her boyfriend. But Ron had been unwilling to bring up the topic as well, so both of them were giving the other a wide berth. They refused to pass the invisible line separating them, but Hermione preferred it that way…at least now when she had more pressing concerns to deal with.

She found only Ginny and Harry seated at the kitchen table. "Morning, Hermione," Harry greeted her. Harry was reading the _Daily Prophet _with deep concentration while Ginny took small bites out of her toast.

"Good morning," Hermione murmured, darting straight for the cabinet to prepare a bowl of cereal. She hoped both of them were too preoccupied to notice her red, puffy eyes.

Harry disappointed her.

"'Mione, are you feeling okay? You look dead tired."

Hermione sighed deeply as she poured wheat oats into a bowl. "I've just had some things on my mind."

She tried to ignore Harry's deep gaze on her as she fetched milk from the fridge. "Hermione, you don't have to worry about Malfoy," Harry said softly. "He can't hurt you when you're being guarded like this. That's why the Weasleys agreed to keep you here instead of allowing you to return to your flat…"

"I know, Harry; I don't want to talk about it." She didn't catch his eye as she sat down at the far end of the table and stuffed oats into her mouth. Intent on changing the topic, she caught Ginny focusing on the kitchen cabinets like they were a fascinating 3D display.

"Ginny, what's up with you?"

Ginny turned slowly toward her. Hermione noticed for the first time that a faint green tint covered her normally flushed face. She, too, had bags under her eyes like she had gotten as little sleep as Hermione.

"Oh, it's nothing, Hermione. I'm just a little sleep deprived."

Hermione frowned, holding her spoon a few inches from her mouth. Obviously it was not "nothing," but Hermione couldn't figure out what could be bothering her. It couldn't be Malfoy; Ginny didn't know the extent of his influence in Hermione's life.

Harry, noticing the awkward exchange, put down his paper and took Ginny's hand tenderly. "You've got Hermione all rattled now, hun. She thinks it's more serious than it is."

Hermione completely forgot her own problems as she watched this strange conversation unfold. "Then tell me, Ginny, if it's not a big deal," she urged. "I desperately need a distraction from my own issues."

Ginny smiled weakly, a twinkle in her eye as she gazed adoringly at her husband. "I guess we'd better tell her since Ron already knows. Go ahead, Harry; if you wish."

Hermione was a little ticked off at this. What information had Ronald received that she hadn't been privileged to?

Harry had the same glimmer of delight in his eyes. "Ginny's pregnant, Hermione. We're going to have a baby!"

Something hard hit Hermione's stomach, and her jaw dropped low as she processed Harry's words. "What? Pregnant? How did…I mean, when did you find this out?"

"Just two days ago." Ginny carefully studied Hermione's reaction. "We didn't want to make it a big deal, seeing as this whole affair with Malfoy is more important…"

"No! I mean, it shouldn't be. This is great news, Ginny…Harry. I'm so happy for both of you, I'm just a little…taken aback. I didn't think it would happen so soon!" And both Harry and Ginny knew she was telling the truth by the way her words rushed out in stammers and pauses. Hermione wasn't known for being at a loss for words.

Ginny smiled warmly at her. "Thank you, Hermione. It came as a shock for us, too, but our excitement has increased the more time that passes. We had always planned on having a family early on."

Hermione didn't know what else to say as she finished her breakfast. The unexpected news brought about so many new, foreign emotions…not all of them positive. Yes, she was more than happy for Harry and Ginny, but she had always figured that she'd be at the same "stage" as them when they had kids. She had imagined for years that she'd get pregnant around the same time as Ginny (with Ron being the father, of course), and their kids would grow up together and be kissin' cousins.

But she wasn't even engaged to Ron yet, and this difficult time in their relationship made her wonder if they'd _ever _reach the marriage stage. Was this simply a "jolt" in her and Ron's relationship - an unpleasant obstacle they could overcome - or was this the beginning of the end?

Harry and Ginny noticed her forlorn expression, so Ginny (who had probably guessed rightly at the reason for Hermione's tension), changed the subject. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as they spoke of new issues at the Ministry, laws being passed, and how the community viewed the new leadership.

Hermione was able to tune out most of their chatter until Ron entered the kitchen, trailed by George. Ron and Hermione ignored each other's presence like the other was a ghost, but George smiled and squeezed Hermione's shoulder as he walked by.

"Mornin', Hermione. You look right and peppy this morning."

Hermione tried not to scowl as she replied, "Not everyone is a morning person, George."

George chuckled as he reached into the fridge. "Hear you loud and clear. I've had to put up with Ron's foul morning attitude since his early teenage years…"

Ron glowered at his brother, but George ignored him as easily as Hermione.

Harry apparently couldn't resist joining in. "I didn't think his negativity only occurred in the morning, George. Sometimes it's a 24-hour thing…"

Ron whacked Harry across the top of his head, making Harry laugh and swat back.

Hermione's jaw tightened. "Leave him alone, guys. No one should have to put up with your mockery this early in the morning."

Ron looked up and smiled weakly, but Hermione dropped her gaze and stood to place her bowl in the dishwasher.

"You look knackered, too, Hermione," George commented. "Out clubbing last night?"

Hermione groaned. "I wish."

She tried her best to ignore Ron's eyes on her back, but something tugged at her to respond. She inhaled deeply and turned to face him, and surprisingly Ron kept eye contact. His eyes were deep and serious, and Hermione knew what she needed to do. It was time to get it over with…

"Ronald, may I talk to you?"

He winced slightly at her overly formal words, but he nodded and cocked his head toward the stairs behind him. Hermione ignored everyone else's intent stares and slowly followed her boyfriend up the stairs and into his bedroom.

Famous Quidditch players and teams plastered on his walls stared down at her with stern eyes, and Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if they moved and folded their arms across their chests in judgment.

Ron spread out his arms in expectation. "Well? How would you like to start off this row?"

Exhausted already, Hermione closed her eyes. Breathing deeply, she opened them and struggled to find the strength to keep her voice even. "Ron, I'm sorry for all this tension, but I don't know how to make it stop. This whole…event with Lucy has come at a terrible time. I would normally try to nail down the problem and fix it straightaway, but my mind has been preoccupied with Draco Malfoy."

Ron's thick eyebrows lowered over his eyes. "What in Merlin's name is his problem? It seems he's just trying to mess things up without a single reason for doing so. Have you realized how many precautions Harry has undertaken because of Malfoy's rubbish? My house is now under constant surveillance and an alarm system is running 24/7."

Hermione shook her head desolately. "I'm sorry, Ron; I really am. I don't like to be causing trouble, but…I don't understand it, either. Malfoy's doing something beyond his normal antics, and I'm afraid it has something to do with me. Maybe it would be better…if I were not here at all. I'm causing you lot more grief than it's worth."

The first sign of compassion appeared in his eyes, and Ron stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. "'Mione, don't talk like that. You're not a burden to any of us; it all has to do with that son of a bitch."

"Don't say that, Ron," she said instantly, frowning with disapproval.

Ron's brows sunk even lower. "Are you _defending _him?"

"Of course not! I just don't like when you swear."

A corner of Ron's mouth twitched. "I've heard you say a few not-so-dignified words now and then."

"Don't change the topic!"

All signs of a smile disappeared. "And what _is_ the topic? What do you want me to say?"

"Oh, I dunno," she spat, feeling herself lose some control over her emotions. "You could tell me what you think of today's weather, talk about the winning team's strategy during last night's football match…or you could explain why you decided to nip out with a girl whilst I was living in England's personal hell!"

Ron's body stiffened and he released his hold on her. "What did Harry tell you?"

"That it was an innocent affair, that the girl liked you more than you liked her…but I need to hear it from _you_, Ron. I can't believe you weren't the first person to approach me with the information!"  
"I was _going to_ after you had settled down a bit!" Ron exclaimed defensively. "Sorry for showing a little bit of consideration while you recovered!"

"I would have recovered better if you had been honest with me straightaway. I don't like to walk around the house feeling like I'm invisible to you!"

Ron groaned, stepping away and pacing the room in agitation. "I don't have a guidebook to explain to me the perfect actions, Hermione! I'm sorry that _I'm _not perfect, but neither are you."

"You're avoiding the point again, Ron! What is this about Lucy?"

He stopped pacing and placed his hands in his pockets. He didn't look her in the eye. "Nothing happened between us, Hermione. I met her in London one evening and helped her pick something out for her mum. She was so thankful that she bought me coffee, and I was stupid enough to keep quiet and not push her away when she became flirtatious. She thought my silence meant I felt something for her, and I never told her the truth because I knew she was travelling back to Wales soon. I don't think she'll return to England any time soon, so I didn't think it was a big deal to keep the story quiet."

Hermione massaged her temples wearily. "Fine. Whatever. Thanks for telling me."

Ron frowned at her agitated tone. "Hermione, please don't make a big deal out of this. It's not something to get stressed out over."

She remained silent, so he felt the need to continue. "I care about _you_, Hermione, and I'm sorry that I don't tell you that very often. These past few weeks have scared the shit out of me, and if I lose you…Let's just put this behind us and start again."

Hermione sighed. "Give me some time, Ron. I can't just jump back to who I was before. This whole situation has…put me on edge. And you gallivanting with other girls doesn't help."

He pursed his lips. "It won't happen again, Hermione. I won't do anything again that will make you upset."

Hermione tried her best to smile at him. "I'd appreciate that."

He came for her at midnight.

A shuddering blast out in the yard awoke the entire household. Before Hermione could completely convince herself that she wasn't dreaming, Ron rushed into her room with a stark white face. He was still in his pyjamas.

"Get out of bed, Hermione! The front yard is on fire and it's gonna spread!"  
Ron had to physically pull Hermione off her bed, for her mind couldn't catch up with his words. Ron dragged her out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and out the back door where the rest of the Weasleys and Harry were congregated. They all shook in the night chill, most of them in their dressing gowns.

"What happened?" she asked anyone who would reply.

Harry's face was tense as he studied her. "_Someone_, most likely a pleasant lad named Malfoy, started a magical fire around the house."

"_What? _A _fire? _But…why aren't you doing anything?"

Hermione unconsciously shrunk closer to Ron as Harry continued to analyze her. "Did you hear what I said? It's a _magical _fire, which means it's already spread as far as it will go. We're waiting for the Ministry to come and clear it up."

Ron glared at Harry. "You didn't tell me that! I thought it was a real one!"

Distracted, Harry shook his head as he studied the bright flames devouring the many acres around the house.

Hermione still couldn't comprehend. Her mind was fuzzy from sleep. "But…why would Malfoy do this? It obviously had to have some purpose."

Ron chuckled humourlessly. "With Malfoy, nothing he does has to have a _purpose_. He does it just to cause a bit of fright."

As Ron finished speaking, another deafening blast exploded to their right only a few metres from where they stood.

Hermione screamed as Ron pushed her to the ground, but the heat and smoke made movement almost impossible. She cried out in the black space for someone to find her, but this merely caused smoke to rush down her throat. She coughed harshly as her eyes stung, and she was forced to squeeze them shut.

Just when she feared staying incapacitated until she was consumed, an arm grabbed her around the waist and pulled her out of the smoke and flame.

"Ron?" she choked, forcing her eyes to open to slits. She tried to observe her rescuer, but black smoke obscured her vision. She had her eyes open for two seconds before the smoke forced them to close again. She relaxed her body as her saviour took her out into the fresh air.

A deep, drawling voice caused her body to tense up all over again. Her feet landed on solid ground but she hardly recognized it.

"Wishful thinking," Malfoy spoke softly in her ear. "You didn't really think I'd leave you alone for long? Say good-bye to the Weasleys, Granger. It'll be a long time before you see them again."


	11. Draco's Sacrifice

Chapter Eleven: Draco's Sacrifice

Hermione still coughed and choked on smoke and ash after Disapparating with Malfoy to a new location. (Even with her eyes closed, it was impossible to dismiss the terrible, crushing sensation of Apparition for anything else). Her eyes welled shut against the painful stinging, and even when she felt her feet touch the ground, she couldn't pry them open.

Before she could think about what her options were, an icy wave of cold water doused her blistering face, and she screeched in surprise.

"Hold _still _Granger; I have to get the ash out of your eyes…"

Hermione struggled in his arms, but Malfoy was quite a bit stronger than her and soon had successfully drenched her face and eyes with lake water.

Lake water! Yes, that's what it tasted like; it certainly wasn't salt water. Which meant…

She forced her eyes open with some effort, but most of the ash had been removed and they no longer stung fiercely. She shivered compulsively as she peered out at the wide, open expanse of water in front of her. Yes, it was a lake – they both knelt at the edge of the calm water with pine trees and oaks dotting the border. She didn't know what she looked like to him as she turned to face her captor, but she assumed – by the Draco-ish sneer on his pale lips – that she looked quite similar to a drowned rat.

She _felt _drowned – the pompous jerk had not only made sure that her face was properly "cleaned" but that her entire body received a good soaking. The wind seemed to have dropped thirty degrees as it whipped over her wet clothes and stung her skin like needles.

"You…" Hermione's voice broke as she struggled to form words. The smoke had burned her throat. "You have _no idea _what you have just done!"

Malfoy snorted as he stood and studied their new surroundings. He put his hands in his pockets, looking so relaxed he could've been surveying his new holiday destination. "Life lesson number one, Granger: don't form conclusions until you know all the facts."

Her teeth chattered as her jaw tensed in anger. She rose slowly to his level, slightly startled to realize that not one part of her body had been burned. She had been sure that the fire had started to consume her at the Burrow.

But that made no difference now. Even if her whole body had been brunt to a crisp, she was still stuck in the middle of the woods, alone – _again!_ – with Draco Malfoy.

"_Please_," she moaned, hoping she didn't sound too desperate. "Please tell me why you're doing this. Your adolescent antics have gone too far; now you're pushing on the dangerous. Just…just tell me what you're after, and I can…"

She didn't know how to continue, for her mind had caught up with her free flowing words. She knew what he was after, and both of them knew that she literally _couldn't _help him in any way.

_Like I _want _to help him, anyway! _she thought angrily. _He's caused all of us nothing but grief! This has gone far beyond his name-calling and bullying at Hogwarts. He's actually acting like a Death Eater now._

That thought made her shiver.

Malfoy had lost his sneer awhile ago. All traces of emotion left his face, making him look strangely pale and empty. Hermione wished she had studied Legilimency.

"I know what you're thinking, Granger, and you'd do me a huge favour if you kept your sanctimonious thoughts to yourself."

She bristled at that, but he ignored her reaction.

"Let's just get one thing straight, okay?" His voice was suddenly weary, as if he had spoken these words too many times. "The only thing we're both aware of is that you and Potter buried the Elder Wand and all of you made the Vow to protect it. So, you're obviously not going to give up the location whatever I do."

Hermione remained silent and wrapped her arms around herself to create some warmth. She tried to process Malfoy's words.

"What you _don't _know is that there is only a certain amount of time left before the Neo-Death Eaters take you for good. Once they capture you, your death is inevitable. They'll either torture you until you die, or you'll give them the location which will lead to your death anyway."

He spoke the words cavalierly, but Hermione was careful enough to catch some despondency in his voice. It sounded like the thought of her death was uncomfortable for him, even horrific.

But she must have read too much into it.

Hermione shook her head slowly, unable to feel anything except the cold numbing her body. Everything else she blocked out. "Malfoy, that grand pronouncement doesn't surprise me much. What _does _surprise me is that you're speaking of the Neo-Death Eaters like they're a group outside of you and you're not involved in their activities. Do _me _a favour and stop making such obvious lies!"

Malfoy's shoulders slumped and he buried his face in his hands, as if he had lost control and had to collect himself. Hermione's eyes widened with shock. She couldn't believe what she was seeing; it was like she watched a different person!

For the first time ever, Draco Malfoy had shown a sign of weakness in front of her.

After a moment, Draco looked up with glazed eyes and studied her with the utmost seriousness.

"We need to talk, Granger. You'd be wise to follow me – there are no Apparition points in these woods. I made sure of that."

She was torn between screaming out in frustration and letting her newly created emotions – shock and curiosity – grip her and make her follow Malfoy without a single word or complaint.

She took the latter, not letting herself think too hard as she followed Malfoy over a small mound of grass to a large clearing. A small, old-fashioned log cabin stood alone and abandoned in the open space, but Hermione thought she saw smoke filter through the tiny rock chimney on the roof.

Malfoy turned to her with a small smile. "Welcome to your new home, Granger."

Hermione had been wrong about the abandonment part. Once entering through the door into the one-floor cabin, she found the inside strangely homey and appealing.

A small, round wood table (with four oak chairs) took up the middle of the cabin. An oversized fireplace consumed the far wall, and a large, roaring fire already crackled when Hermione entered. A lone twin bed rested against the opposite wall, its sheets full of holes and uncomfortably thin.

Next to the table stood a rusted tub with spout, which Hermione figured to be the only way to access water in the cabin.

Hermione was distracted for awhile as Malfoy grabbed a kettle from the floor and filled it with water from the spout. He then placed it on a ring hovering above the fire, and Hermione was almost humoured by this. _Strange, _she couldn't help thinking. _I never thought Malfoy knew how to do anything for himself. _

Malfoy noticed her stare and narrowed his eyes. "What, never seen tea made the original way, Granger?"

Hermione shrugged self-consciously, breaking eye contact and sitting down at the table. She waited silently as Malfoy poured both her and himself a cup of herbal tea in two chipped, white tea cups. Hermione didn't wish to ask him how long the cups had been sitting, unwashed, in the old log cabin, so instead she took a hesitant sip and peered up at him expectantly.

"So?"

Malfoy's brow lowered in contempt. "Don't push me, Granger, or else you'll be trapped here alone _and _ignorant for a very long time."

Hermione pursed her lips, looking away to study the fire. She snuck glances at Malfoy to catch him rubbing his temples wearily, his eyes closed in either concentration or annoyance. When he finally began to speak, he didn't meet Hermione's eye.

"My father had been waiting to strike back at Potter and the Ministry for many months after the Dark Lord's fall. He tried to keep our family out of the way; we hid quietly while the world worshipped Potter for his heroic, unselfish undertaking." He grimaced with these words, obviously in opposition to Harry Potter still being labeled 'The Chosen One.' "During our time in almost complete isolation, Father rallied up any wizard who still believed in a Pureblood world. Because I was young and energetic, Father and Mother both appointed me as the Head of the Neo-Death Eaters…a position I, quite frankly, was not eager to accept."

Hermione's eyes widened slightly at this, and Malfoy turned back to her, his face devoid of emotion. "Yes, believe it or not, Granger, I was not willing to sacrifice my life to assist in Father's campaign. I knew how many were against us and how far we would have to go to even start to be taken seriously in the wizarding world."

Hermione frowned, something in his voice creating doubt in her mind. It sounded to her like there were other reasons for why Malfoy didn't want to lead the Neo-Death Eaters, but he wasn't going to speak of them.

"But you took the post anyway," Hermione reminded him, hoping he would allow her to interrupt.  
Malfoy chuckled humourlessly. "Yes, I did, but that was out of blackmail more than anything else…Which I am not about to explain to you!" he added with disapproval. She must have looked eager at that point. "Anyway, I did all that Father asked me to do, but I did it begrudgingly, because I felt the entire affair both too radical and reckless for this day. There was not one person in the wizarding world, I believed, who would support our cause because of how much devastation and destruction the Dark Lord had reaped. So I did minor tasks for the cult, but I was not involved in the Muggle torturing and break-ins because I _do _have some personal morals I adhere to."

Hermione looked down, for Malfoy had passed her a judging look then. She wasn't sure if she could believe him, but his words were too practical, too _honest _to not take seriously_. _She really had no choice but to believe he spoke the truth.

"But you did gain followers," Hermione interjected, fooling with the handle of her mug with eyes lowered. "Many, as it would seem. And your father still pushed the cult? I mean, the idea of the Neo-Death Eaters didn't fall out. Your lot continued to create terror in the wizarding world with you in the lead."

Malfoy's eyebrows sunk low over his pale grey eyes. "Who's narrating this story again, Granger?"

"Sorry," she mumbled, taking another sip of tea to give herself something to do.

Malfoy groaned. "I'll never get to the point if you keep sticking in your little comments. But anyway…yes, to the world I was the cause of it all, but inside the organization…" He hesitated, and Hermione glanced up to find him staring hard at the wall behind her. His eyes were deep and thoughtful, and she didn't dare interrupt him this time. "Inside the organization, I had very little input. My father wanted me as the poster boy, so to speak, so that _he_ didn't have to be. He figured that if the rest of England discovered that Lucius Malfoy was organizing some sort of resistance, it wouldn't amount to much. He's getting older, you see, and some people believe he doesn't have the power – magically or politically – to create much of anything. But if _I_ were the Head…some fear might spread with the news. I'm young and strong, and even if my powers don't supposedly match up to the magic of The Boy Who Lived…" He grunted with disgust. "People may still believe I could lead something, something that could resist the Ministry. That's what my parents believe, anyway, and I had no choice but to obey their orders. I've never had many choices in my life."

The last part was more murmured than spoken, causing Hermione to strain to hear him, though he sat only opposite her at the small table. His words stirred a foreign emotion in her – pity. She didn't know if he had used his powers of speech to create false emotions in her, but right then she somehow felt like he deserved sympathy. He spoke like the whole Neo-Death Eaters cult had not been of his doing, and he had been unwillingly dragged along…

Hermione found herself laughing, softly at first and then strengthening in volume. She spoke her first thoughts aloud. "Rubbish! Complete rubbish, Draco Malfoy. Do you think I am that daft to believe you're some helpless, innocent lad who was forced to create a dangerous organization with his domineering father? Oh Draco, that is…"

She couldn't say any more, because without warning Malfoy's thoughtful, still face vanished and was replaced with rage. His whole face tensed up, and with a quick, powerful motion, he reached across the table and clamped his hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened with alarm, her heart jumping in her chest, but she was too shocked to try to pull back.

"I suspected you might say as much, which is why I hesitated for days before bringing you here," he hissed, half of his body splayed out across the table as he leaned closer to her with furious eyes. "I don't know how else to make you believe than by cursing you, but that would obviously lessen your trust in me. That's why I took a risk and decided to tell you the truth, tell you about a part of myself I've never shared with anyone else. I guess I shouldn't be surprised…what reasons do you have for trusting that _these _words may be the truth when I lie as often as I breathe? No, I am not that stupid, Granger, but now you're pushing me too far. Keep going and I may reach for my wand."

He removed his hand long before he finished, but only because it was no longer necessary. Hermione's mouth hung halfway open as she stared, unblinkingly, at the boy who had changed masks more than three times in front of her that day.

Draco was right; she didn't know whether to trust him. But the simple fact that he spoke so…freely, almost without thinking, made her reconsider her accusations.

Hermione thought about it slowly and carefully as Draco waited patiently for her to speak. What if, for some ungodly reason, Draco Malfoy had decided to speak the truth to his childhood enemy? What would he say, and what would the truth sound like? What would make her ponder over whether he was lying or not? How were his actions now different from his others during the years they had known – and loathed – each other?

That last question was the easiest to answer, surprisingly. By the lake, he had shown weakness in front of her. He had shown a vulnerable side of himself that, more than likely, he had never presented to any other rival. He had not kidnapped her to a cold cell like before where she would starve and never bathe. He had brought her to a place of reasonable comfort; a place that visibly seemed the exact opposite of the stereotypical location a captor would bring his victim. It was a peaceful, almost beautiful setting, indeed…

She hung her head and rubbed her forehead like Malfoy had done only minutes before. Not only had Draco not disposed of her in another cell, but he had sat her down, given her _tea_, and talked to her like a friend trying to explain something very difficult.

That was it. She had just answered all of her own questions.

Hermione's jaw dropped lower, and her expression must have looked rather humourous because Malfoy smirked a little.

"Dare I continue?" he asked with a distinctive drawl.

Hermione nodded slowly, wishing he would give her more time to think it through.

"I have fooled many, Hermione Granger." His tone had lightened considerably, and she knew it was because she was no longer glaring at him with distrust. "My parents, as well as the other scoundrels working with them, believe me to have my priorities straight but also to be…hesitant. I keep telling them over and over that I will not act among them until I know we're fighting directly toward our goal – the Elder Wand. They bought that story easily. But I cannot hide my true feelings for long. I'm supposed to torture you, Granger, until you comply. But since that means death, I dare not touch you."

He watched her expression carefully, but her face had frozen into one of complete shock. She was processing his words, but she didn't yet know how to respond.

"So this is the only option for the moment," he finished almost lazily, motioning to the cabin around them with a circling hand. "The theatrical display of capture I performed for your mates earlier only strengthens my story. Now everyone believes that I've kidnapped you once again to finally get answers out of you. Your capture will spread to the Neo-Death Eaters, and they will believe I'm torturing you senseless for days on end. In truth, we'll only be surviving out here in this bloody nothingness until I come up with a new plan."

Hermione's face finally broke out of its frozen state, and she opened her mouth to ask the next obvious question, but Draco sighed wearily and shook his head.

"No, I don't yet know what that plan will be. But I thought if we're difficult to find, that'll buy us more time."

He was finished. This was made obvious by the way he suddenly looked uncomfortable and drank from his mug that he had not touched before. And so they sat in the most unpleasant silence Hermione had ever experienced, but finally she mustered the courage to speak the words she thought she'd never in a million centuries utter to the pale boy sitting in front of her.

"Thank you. Thank you for…for your courage to do the right thing. I hate to say it, but my life is in your hands and you're not…throwing it away."

Draco smiled, and for the first time it was not a sneer or a self-righteous smirk. It was a genuine smile, one of kindness, though he obviously did it hesitantly.

"You're welcome," was all he muttered in reply.


	12. Life in Solitude

Chapter Twelve: Life in Solitude

It was a strange twist of fate that Hermione woke up the following morning in the same room as Draco Malfoy. Upon waking, she squinted at the ceiling and studied her surroundings in a half-awake daze. It took her a few moments before she remembered where she was and how she had arrived there. There was no clock in the cabin, but Hermione judged by the rising sun that it was a few hours past dawn.

Draco sat at the small table reading an unidentifiable book while he chewed ideally on his breakfast of a mushy bowl of porridge.

His eyes slowly strayed to her once she had perched herself on the edge of the twin bed.

"Good morning," he murmured quickly before turning back to his book. His hasty words proved that he wasn't used to politeness around someone like her, a past rival.

But Hermione was determined to make this "holiday" as comfortable as possible, so she had to get used to being on good terms with Draco Malfoy. Whatever "on good terms" meant when it referred to a relationship with a Neo-Death Eater.

Or Ex-Neo-Death Eater. She still wasn't sure what to believe. She decided to withhold judgment until the last possible moment.

"Good morning," she responded with a little too much perkiness, bounding up to study his meal more closely. "Where did you get that? I thought we'd be eating tree bark and slugs the whole time."

Malfoy ignored her humour and replied coldly, "I'd rather kill you than suffer like that, Granger. I prepared a few items before bringing you here so that we wouldn't suffer physically as well as socially."

Hermione groaned and sat across from him at the table. "Malfoy, if you're determined to do the right thing and keep me away from harm, the least you could do is act respectably and talk to me like a normal human being. We're both going to suffer more if we're glaring at each other and muttering under our breaths the entire time."

"That statement requires a glare itself," Malfoy told her with a sly grin. "But I admit that I'd rather save my hostility for more appropriate times. Believe it or not, it wears on me to act superior to you all the time when you're so stubborn and defiant."

Hermione smiled, taking his words as a compliment. "Then don't. Pretend I'm just a random peer of yours who had the unfortunate luck of being assigned a cabin with you. We'll be cordial to each other but nothing more or less."

"Fine," Draco huffed. "_Cordial_, though I refuse to up that a notch and become _gracious. _Taking you here is the only favour I'm giving you; the rest of your survival is up to you."

Although his words were harsh, Hermione had expected nothing less from him. His personality hadn't done a three-sixty, after all. She wasn't expecting him to wash her feet, rub her back, or even prepare food for her.

"Where then, Mr Cordial, do I find the supplies to prepare myself some food?"

He jerked his thumb behind him near the fireplace. "There's some bottled water, dishes, porridge, etcetera behind me. Use the water carefully, though; we don't have more than a week's supply. Luckily, there's a stream which holds fresh water up behind the cabin in the woods. We'll have to use that when our own supply runs out."

Hermione silently applauded him for his preparation. He must have scoured the area for quite awhile if he knew where everything was located. At least they weren't trapped alone in a cabin where _nothing _could be used to assist them in their survival.

"What's the plan for today, then?" she questioned him on a whim. "Are we going to go hiking or fishing first?"

This time, Hermione almost laughed at the unblinking glare he sent her. For some reason, she no longer felt intimidated or weary around him. In her prison, she had been a little terrified of the power he held over her, but now it appeared that they were almost equals. They were both fighting toward the same goal.

"How many times do I have to explain to you that this is _not _a holiday?" Draco hissed. "I'd rather be fighting off polar bears in Antarctica than be trapped in the woods with you. And if it's escaped your notice, Granger, I _despise_ the outdoors. I don't find dirt, worms, and birds comforting in the least. And if you try to drag me into any such activity, I will gladly take my bed back and throw you out in the dirt. Is that clear?"

"Fine, then," Hermione huffed. "I'll catch the fish and you can cook them."

Draco just shook his head in disbelief, his gaze back on his book. Hermione wanted to ask what he was so carefully reading, but she knew she had already spoken to him too much that morning. She figured Malfoy didn't want to spend more than a third of each day in conversation.

After mixing together a soggy paper bowl of porridge and forcing it down, Hermione decided to explore their surroundings. She found the glade situated around their cabin rather peaceful and serene. If she listened closely, she could discern the tinkling of a stream or pond further back in the woods. The grass was high and tickled her ankles, but Hermione wasn't known for being an indoor girl. She kicked her trainers off and strolled barefoot around the glade, inhaling the sweet scent of fresh grass, pines, and smoke from the cabin's chimney. Her insides calmed and not a fear entered her mind.

Hermione found herself forgetting that this _wasn't _a holiday. She hardly felt like a captive or victim like she had in the Neo-Death Eaters' hide-out. And despite Malfoy's cold attitude toward her, she knew that their time spent here would not be unbearable.

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, seemed to think otherwise.

"What the hell are you doing, Granger?"

Hermione peered up quizzically at Draco as she finished tying a piece of string to a long, dark stick.

"Did you hear nothing of what I told you earlier?" she asked haughtily. "_I'm _going fishing. Or did you forget that you had brought some household items into the cabin? Some string and a hook are enough to at least attempt to fish."

Draco shook his head with a sigh. "I almost forgot that you grew up in a Mudblood world. You probably have spent half your life doing things without magic. At least I know you'll have a strategy if a roaming bear decides to investigate our campsite."

Hermione concentrated on fastening the hook to the end of the string. If Draco expected undivided attention from her for the snide, offensive comments he made, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

Draco did, in fact, look a little ticked off when she properly ignored him and headed with her fishing gear into the woods. "Well, then," he cried at her retreating back. "I'll just wait for my lunch over here. If you get into trouble, cry out or something and I'll consider helping you if I'm not preoccupied."

Hermione chuckled under her breath as she drew near the spring Draco had mentioned earlier. She enjoyed a snubbed Draco so much better than a supercilious one. It was time _he _felt what it was like to be on equal footing with another. There didn't always have to be a leader and a follower in every social situation.

But her mood was dampened by the slow progress she later made with her homemade fishing rod. The calmness of the forest enhanced the bubbling of the creek tenfold. Hermione glimpsed a sparrow flutter from branch to branch, and its careful movements fascinated her for awhile. When her bird got badgered by a neighbour, she forgot her task and watched the birds peck at each other.

"No!"

Her jaw dropped as her rod floated down the stream and banged against the rocks. She realized too late that it had slipped out of her fingers when her attention had been diverted by the birds.

Rolling the bottoms of her jeans up, she prepared to enter the cold water to rescue her rod. Luckily, the stick had gotten trapped between two boulders and rested only a few feet away.

_Thank goodness the stream is shallow and narrow! _she thought as she dipped her toes hesitantly into the water.

She shrieked as the icy water licked her bare skin. The creek was dozens of degrees cooler than the air, making her task even more uncomfortable.

_Come on, Hermione; it's just water! Just jump in and jump out. You do want to eat after all, right? _

She took a deep breath before jumping in with both feet. The creek went up past her knees, and she bit down on her tongue hard to keep herself from crying out again. The rocks on the bottom were jagged and rough, but Hermione tried to focus on the distance between her and her rod instead. She took one, two, then three large steps and had almost reached her prize when…

"AHHH!"

A slimy rock knocked her off balance, and she tumbled backwards into the water. Her head went under as she desperately tried to pull herself up. But the creek's rapid movement pushed her downstream, and she was tossed in a million different directions as her body became weightless in the water.

Hermione's lungs burned with pain as the last bit of air left her, and she frantically kicked with her arms and legs, trying and failing to find something to cling onto. The world around her turned gloomy and vague as her vision blurred with the movement of the water. She became dizzy and disoriented, not knowing which way was up and which was down.

The thought of giving up had just entered her mind when something from outside grabbed her around the middle and hauled her out of the water. Hermione let out a sputtering gasp as her lungs frantically took in fresh air. She instantly collapsed once laid on solid ground, coughing and choking on the water remaining in her lungs. She hadn't realized she had breathed in so much!

It took her several minutes to figure out that she was going to survive. Her head spun as she glanced up at the figure hovering above her weak body. The sun's light bounced off his pale skin, and she noticed that Draco Malfoy was soaked to the core. His soggy t-shirt clung to his chest, its material now so transparent she could make out his nipples and abs. His blond hair drooped over his brow and sprayed droplets of water onto his face. But Malfoy ignored all this as he knelt down to her level. "Are you alright?"

It took her awhile to comprehend his words. "Y..yes. Yes, I'm fine," she stuttered, her teeth beginning to chatter as the air whipped through her wet clothes. "How did you…why did you…"

Draco smiled a little awkwardly. "I heard you shriek and decided it wasn't safe for you to be out here on your own. I had just found you when you fell in, and thankfully the water wasn't moving fast enough for me to lose you. You were under for a good minute, though."

He could have been Ron, Hermione realized with a shudder. Ron would have done the same thing for her – he would have rescued her and then stayed by her side until he was sure she was okay. And in his place was Draco Malfoy, a man she suddenly realized she didn't know at all. A man who had not only saved her from death, but had shown concern for her well being and – probably for the first time in history – had not made any snide remarks about her pathetic state.

Hermione had no words for him as she stared into his grey eyes, his own holding deep compassion. Yes, there was compassion there. She had seen it often enough in others to recognize its true form.

"Let's get you back into the cabin before you freeze," Draco murmured as he lifted her effortlessly off the ground and into his arms. Hermione laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes in pure exhaustion. There was too much to think about, too much she had to analyze.

_No, _she thought hastily as he carried her through the cabin door and laid her delicately on her bed. _No, it's not that hard to figure out. I've denied the truth for too long already; it's time to accept what's in front of me. _

_ Draco Malfoy is not a Neo-Death Eater._


	13. The Truth From Within

Chapter Thirteen: The Truth From Within

Hermione realized too late that she had fallen asleep in her wet clothes. It was late evening when she awoke, shivering fiercely like she had only just been saved from the creek. Her jeans and shirt were uncomfortably damp, and her eyes automatically scanned her surroundings for a change of clothes.

"Here. Try these."

A dark pair of flannel trousers and a plain cotton shirt were thrown at her from another direction. Catching the warm clothes, she peered up to find Draco staring deeply into the flames of a newly kindled fire. He did not glance at her again, so Hermione didn't feel the urge to ask him any questions.

Once certain that she was hidden in shadow, she quickly changed. The soft fabric was heaven against her cold skin and, once she had hung her old clothes outside to dry, she crept up to the fire.

The silence was long but, Hermione noticed, not uncomfortable. They both were too absorbed in their own ponderings to take notice of the other. Hermione watched the firelight flicker in Draco's eyes, the eyes that did not seem to blink.

It was only after a few minutes, when Hermione had properly warmed up, that she remembered what had caused her to need new clothes in the first place. She relived that moment as if it had just occurred: Draco, soaked through, standing above her with terror in his eyes. How her body had failed her, and he had taken her into his arms without being asked to. How he had reminded her of Ron in the gentle way he cradled her and the compassion that had exuded from him.

Suddenly, the silence was unbearable. She needed to fill it with all the questions she longed to ask, and she needed to hear the answers that had been withheld…

But just as she opened her mouth, Draco murmured, "I have to go back to my parents tonight."

Her jaw couldn't close. She stared at him, unable to comprehend, until he finally looked at her directly.

"This was not supposed to be a long trip, Hermione." He sounded apathetic, but Hermione studied him closer and noticed his hands shaking. "I was supposed to be 'done with it' quickly, as my parents told me. They've been treating this whole mess like it's a simple test of skill – easily solved, easily conquered. They don't understand what it's like here…"

Hermione, feeling her own body shake, sat herself down on the filthy floor. Folding her hands in her lap, she struggled to remain composed.

"What _is _it like here, Draco?"

Her whisper must have hit a soft spot within him. For yes, Hermione knew he did have soft spots. He wasn't a cold, unfeeling soul like Voldemort had been or even Lucius. He was human, just like her. Just like Harry.

Just like Ron.

Draco pressed his lips together as if holding back a sob. His entire body tensed until he could no longer restrain his emotions. They spilled out into his words until Hermione clearly understood how much agony he was experiencing.

"It's unbearable," he whispered. "Simply unbearable."

Hermione held her breath, longing to find the right response to this. She was torn inside, aching to help him but also questioning why she wanted to. Her thoughts and sensations were so broad that she couldn't sort through them. The good and the bad were all mixed together like a boiling potion. And one small tug on that potion meant the end of her sanity…

But Draco's potion tipped first. He saw the torn look on her face, the concern mixed with hesitation. For some reason, this set him off. Rising swiftly, he stumbled toward the wooden table and fell against it, his hands gripping the edge so fiercely his knuckles turned white.

"Damn it, Hermione! Why have you done this to me?"

She inhaled sharply, stung by this unexpected comment. "What have _I _done? You're the one who…"

"You can never understand!" Draco cried, his voice rising in a tide of fury. Even in the dimness of the cabin, Hermione noticed the sickly paleness of his face. He did not see her, or even listen to her. He was far away, suffering under something Hermione could not see.

"You can never understand!" he repeated. His hands shook so fiercely he could not keep them still. The demons in his mind increased, sending him reeling over the edge of insanity. One moment he clutched the table with a death grip, the next he grabbed it with amazing strength and toppled it over.

Hermione screamed as a shuddering boom from the table echoed through the cabin, clouds of dust spinning in the air. She coughed and rose as quickly as her body allowed.

"Draco, stop!"

"What am I to do with you?" he cried, pointing a finger at her in accusation. "How am I ever to survive this? I am being attacked from all sides! There is no way out!" His chest heaved and his eyes were wide and fierce. In the dark cabin, with the shadows of the fire flickering off him, he looked truly terrifying. Hermione's feet froze to the ground, leaving her unable to move or even breathe. She was surprised that the pounding of her heart did not reverberate around the room.

"I cannot stay here any longer." Draco's gaze zoomed around the room, scouring every item in it. Hermione could almost see his mind working, darting through thought after thought like a film reel at high speed. "I have to go to my parents. I have to finish it. This has to end in one way or another."

Hermione found her voice again as Draco shakily headed for the door. "Draco, _please! _Stop scaring me like this! What has happened to you? Why are you acting like…like…"

Tears halted her words - unexpected tears which flowed swiftly. She hadn't realized how terrified he had made her until he was leaving.

Her words, however hoarse and soft they had been, seemed to bring Draco back to the cabin…back to reality.

He lost all tension in his body and became weak, depleted. He studied the overturned table and then her cowering body, and his eyes held such grief that she almost wept for him.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. Please forgive me."

He uttered the words so carefully, so slowly that she almost didn't catch them. By the time she had fully taken them in, he was gone. He had left her completely alone.

Her fate was out of his hands.

*

"Hermione. Hermione."

She heard someone sobbing in the distance, and the sound aroused pity within her. The cries were weak, like the person had run out of the strength to scream. There was such heartache within those tears that Hermione vaguely wondered what had happened to devastate a person so.

"Hermione! Please…"

Large, warm hands cradled her face and lifted her head up. Someone with vibrant ginger hair knelt in front of her, but it was difficult to make out the face. Large, wet tears clouded her vision, and she hastily rubbed her sleeve across her eyes.

Her face, she found, was soaked with salty tears. The distant cries she had heard must have been her own.

"Hermione."

The voice, so compassionate and tender, caused her tears to renew themselves. But before her vision became hazy again, she recognized her boyfriend's freckled face.

"Ron…" Her voice was a mere fragment of sound.

She remained frozen, her arms clutched around her legs. Her body was so stiff that she vaguely wondered if she'd ever be able to move again. How long had she been on the floor? An hour? Two hours?

Ron's face softened, and he carefully lifted her off the floor and into his arms. Hermione experienced an almost alarming sense of déjà vu. She had been carried like this not so long ago, but the sensation had been much different. Then, she had lain against his chest longingly, enjoying the familiar scent of his skin. She had fallen asleep there, nestled against him like a child. She had never felt so protected or secure in a very long time.

But in Ron's arms it was different. Strikingly different. It wasn't _uncomfortable, _per say, but it was…foreign. Awkward. She couldn't fall asleep here, it felt too strange. She didn't feel protected or even safe. And she knew she should. It was _Ron_, for God's sake!

"Hermione, what's wrong?"

Ron's alarmed voice brought her wet eyes up to his. She had started sobbing harder and hadn't realized it. His wide blue eyes stared down at her with fear, but she couldn't speak. She shook her head hard, letting her hair whip against her wet cheeks.

"God, what has he done to you? That son of a bitch will pay! Once I get my hands on him…"

"Ron, hurry up! What if he comes back?" Harry's voice travelled to her from a distance.

"Let him come back!" Hermione had never heard such fervor in Ron's voice before. He spit out the words like poison in his mouth. "Let him come so I can deal with him personally! This has to _end_, Harry. I will not let him destroy my girlfriend like this!"

_No, it's all wrong! _Hermione shouted in her mind. She longed to cry the words out loud, but her chest wouldn't stop heaving, and her eyes wouldn't dry. The truth was finally being revealed to her and it scared her. _They don't know what happened here. They don't know who he really is…_

"Quick, Ron! I don't…"

A rumble like an oncoming freight train cut out Harry's words in mid-sentence. Ron froze with Hermione still in his arms, struck dumb by the sudden noise.

They hardly had a second to think before an earth-shattering _boom _thundered into the cabin and took out half of one wall. Chaos erupted as Ron tumbled with her to the ground, protecting her body with his own as part of the roof caved in. Hermione screamed against his chest as another jolt shook every inch of the cabin.

"Ron! Get _out!_"

It took several terrifying seconds before Ron could respond to Harry's cry. Shock almost completely immobilized his body, and Hermione could do nothing but stay in his arms as he clung onto her. At last, reason entered his mind and he dragged himself up from the floor. The thickness of dust and grime in the air caused both of them to choke. Hermione could not see a few feet in front of her, so she was amazed that Ron did not run into any walls as he carried her out of the wreckage and into broad daylight.

What greeted them outside froze Ron to the spot. Hermione could feel his heart jump in his chest as he looked out and met the eyes of five black-cloaked Neo-Death Eaters.

"What a pity, Weasley," laughed the one closest to the trio. "It would've been far easier if you'd just left the Mudblood inside. That way a third of our job would be done with. Now I regret we must finish off all three of you at once. How about we start with Potter…I've been longing to get my hands around his throat since he was born."

The last thing Hermione clearly remembered was Harry crying a spell at a Death Eater before her world became a dizzy whirl of smoke, colourful spells, and screams.

*

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had been anticipating their only child since early evening. Their wine glasses had been refilled by the maid a handful of times until the alcohol made them quite unstable. Narcissa had to physically remove the wine from her husband's powerful grip, for Lucius had been absentmindedly draining his drink out of maddening impatience.

At last, neither one could hold it back any longer.

"Once I get my hands on that boy, he'll never leave the Manor again!" Lucius spat wildly, flinging his wand about like a sword. Green sparks erupted out of the end, a few almost grazing Narcissa's shoulder. "I _knew_ he was too incompetent to finish the job. I _knew _he was too weak in both body and mind to kill the Mudblood. You remember what happened in his sixth year? How the Dark Lord honoured him with the most important task in our family's history and _what did he do? _Nothing but weep and sputter at Dumbledore's feet like a five-year-old Muggle girl…"

"Lucius, this is no time to bring up Draco's many failures!" Narcissa hissed. "If we want our son to obey this once, we have to build up his courage with words of advice. If you hurt him either physically or mentally tonight like you've done in the past, he'll return to that Mudblood even weaker than he left her."

Lucius groaned and collapsed into his armchair. He glared into the flames of the brilliant fire with such wrath that Narcissa inadvertently stepped back.

The silence was thick and almost sparking with tension when the doors to Lucius' study burst open, and there in the doorway stood their son. His parents both turned and directed powerful gazes at his figure, but Draco only stood up straighter and stepped slowly into their presence.

"Father. Mother." Draco's curt nods and overly polite tone spoke his temper like nothing else. Something that night had tested his patience already, and – from the red surrounding his eyes and the whiteness of his face – he was emotionally unstable. But he still stood in front of them, faking strength and confidence so well that it even silenced Lucius for a moment.

"What happened to you, Son?" Lucius' tone lowered in a strange resemblance to awe. "Did you…accomplish the task?"

Draco chuckled darkly. "No, Father. The Mudblood is still alive."

"Then what happened?" Narcissa cut in. In normal circumstances, she would never attempt to overpower her husband in a conversation, but the oddness of the situation overcame her timidity. "You say she's alive, but is she…injured? Unconscious, perhaps? On the verge of death?"

When Draco carefully turned his gaze upon her, she gasped inwardly at the emptiness of his eyes. It was as if a ghost stood in front of her. Her son, the man who could radiate pompousness and magnificence like none other Neo-Death Eater, was either smothered underneath a shadow or had departed.

Narcissa caught it earlier than Lucius, for her husband had never (she believed) seen a person suffering from a mental illness before. But Narcissa kept a dark secret to herself: she knew what depression was, for she had suffered it for days on end. She knew that nothing on earth could take away the sensations of misery and emptiness during those endless days.

And now her son was the living image of that illness.

"I have failed, Mother." Her son's voice was deep and detached. "I have failed in yet another assignment you have trusted me with. I am sorry to have disappointed you both for the umpteenth time, but know that I have not forgotten the punishment for such severe failures. I'm sorry it had to end like this, but I am seemingly too weak to be your son. Destroy my name and memory from the family tree and all living records – I deserve it all. But please remember that through out my life I have done my utmost best to please you. I only wanted to make you proud of me, and I have failed even at that. Good-bye, Mother. Good-bye, Father. I'm sorry for everything."

Both Narcissa and Lucius became numb as Draco bowed to them and gracefully spun on his heel and walked out of the room. They minds screamed at them to do something, but Draco's words had affected their movements, and it took a few minutes before Lucius found his voice.

"Draco! Draco, get back here!"

Draco did not turn back as he walked purposefully through the doors and down the hall.

"_Draco!" _Lucius hollered, his raging voice echoing off the stone walls like a cannon. For the first time, Narcissa caught panic in her husband's voice. He shook from head to foot, blurting out anything that came to his mind. "Draco, you have not failed! The…Mudblood is probably dead as we speak! I have sent the Neo-Death Eaters to finish the job…"

Surprisingly, these were the words that halted Draco's course. Draco froze for a few seconds before he spun back to face them. The distance between them did not stop Lucius and Narcissa from observing Draco's chest rising and falling rapidly.

"_What?_" Fierce emotion returned to Draco's voice.

Lucius stumbled over his words in obvious relief that something had halted his son's steps. "Y..yes! Five of them are at the cabin as we speak. Yesterday, it was reported that Potter and Weasley tortured the cabin's location out of Carrow, but they, too, shall die with her. There is hope yet, Son! Don't be so bloody rash!"

Draco's eyes widened with either shock or fear, and it took him but a heartbeat after his father's words to spin on his heel and Disapparate in the middle of the corridor.


	14. In Death's Grip

Chapter Fourteen: In Death's Grip

It was most likely a consequence of the emotional distress Hermione had experienced within the past twelve hours, but it still made Hermione feel like a powerless, stereotypical damsel in distress when Ron told her breathlessly that she had fainted in his arms.

"I…what…" she breathed, her head too light to form a proper sentence. She concentrated hard on Ron's face as she inhaled the sharp, consuming scent of wet dirt and grass. Her weak vision took in the cool tones of leaves and thick bushes. It was quiet in the trees where she lay, but she faintly caught the drone of voices beyond their haven.

"Ron, is everything…"

"I'm fine; Harry's fine," Ron cut in hastily. Despite his words, his face was abnormally pale, and his eyes darted around their surroundings continuously. He remained in a tense, crouched position in the grass, as if prepping himself to jump up at the slightest movement.

"Then why…" Hermione whispered.

"Shh!" Ron cut her off with a finger to his lips. "Not now. They're not far behind us."

Quick, pounding footsteps crunched under the fallen leaves and grass, the volume increasing with each pace. Hermione instinctively reached for Ron's hand and gripped it as a figure rounded the corner and came into sight.

But it was only Harry. His glasses were slightly askew, his face filthy with streaks of dirt, and a few tears were visible in his trousers and shirt. He breathed heavily as he pointed his lit wand at Ron and Hermione.

"Hermione, you alright?"

He didn't wait after Hermione nodded before launching himself closer. "Hermione, where the hell are we? Where did Malfoy bring you?"

Hermione's mouth opened and closed worthlessly. She struggled to recall what Draco had told her when they had first Apparated into the woods, but nothing came to her mind.

Harry groaned loudly. "Damn it, Malfoy, you worthless sod!" He kicked a small tree forcefully and it wavered on the spot. "There are no Apparition spots in this whole bloody forest! I bet he was only too thrilled to learn that Ron and I had found our way here, unknowingly walking into a trap! They're going to have us surrounded in minutes; there are only so many places for them to look. I can just see that fucking bastard hiding in his Manor, chuckling to himself at the thought of us playing this deadly game of Hide and Seek with the Neo-Death Eaters. If we get out of this alive, I have a certain Unforgivable Curse I've been longing to throw at that arrogant…"

"Harry, stop!"

Harry and Ron spun and shot her horrified glances.

"'Mione, I thought _you'd _be the one throwing around curse words in reference to Draco Malfoy," Ron said after a moment. "He's the one trying to kill you, after all."

"No, he's not!" Hermione cried, pushing herself up to rest against a tree trunk. "This can't be his fault!"

Hermione didn't know how to respond to the almost amusing mix of consternation and appalled disbelief on their faces. She guessed they secretly believed she had suffered a terrible concussion.

"Hermione, are you _hearing _the words you're saying?" Harry asked slowly and carefully, as if speaking to a small child. "We're talking about Draco Malfoy, our old favourite Slytherin enemy from Hogwarts, not the Draco Malfoy you met online in a chat room."

"Yes, I'm perfectly aware of what I'm implying," Hermione sniffed condescendingly. "I don't think you understand what this is all about! The Neo-Death Eaters may be after us, but Draco can't be aware of it. He left me a few hours ago and can't…" She stopped, swallowing hard at the sudden stinging in her throat and eyes. For some reason, the words 'he left me' and the memory behind them brought up a complex web of emotions. Emotions she didn't want to consider now or ever…

"Bloody hell, he's brainwashed her!" Ron gasped, feverously studying her like he believed she was a Polyjuice imposter. "Harry, he did something to her!"

Harry, too, breathed heavily and analyzed her like he couldn't comprehend the situation. Hermione felt ill at the looks she received, and a sensation similar to panic rose in her stomach. She tried to say something to repair whatever had happened when…

"_MOVE!_" Harry screamed, tossing a spell behind him as dark shadows rose from the ground and darkened the trees.

Ron grabbed Hermione's arm and hauled her up. He dragged her in the opposite direction and she struggled to keep up, but her body was agonizingly weak and she tripped often on roots. Ron urged her onward, but her pace became slower and stiffer the harder she tried to push herself.

_Please… _she begged inwardly. _Please don't let them catch us. Please don't let them kill Ron and Harry. I won't survive without them! _

Hermione chanced a glance behind her and saw three cloaked figures rushing after them. Harry raced a few paces behind Ron and Hermione, often running backwards to accurately cast spells at their opponents. However, the vast and thick trees made it nearly impossible to aim correctly. Several trees came crashing to the ground as both their curses and some of the Neo-Death Eaters' hit trunk after trunk.

Their only advantage was their youth. They were more agile than the older men in cloaks, and without brooms or Apparition available, they had to rely on their mortal bodies alone. The trio knew that they'd be running toward their unidentifiable destination until someone collapsed from exhaustion. They prayed that the loss of energy would occur among the Death Eaters first.

Just as Hermione feared another fainting spell, a memory came to her unbidden. She gasped, and Ron turned to her with concern.

"The lake!" The words barely came out in-between her gasps for breath. "We Apparated here by the edge of the lake…"

Harry responded to her words first. "This way!" he cried, somehow finding the strength to pelt past them and steer them left. Hermione wasn't sure how he knew where the lake was, but she had no choice but to trust him. But if he led them incorrectly and they had to backtrack, surely they'd run into a Neo-Death Eater at one turn or another.

It was only a matter of time before they hit a dead end.

But Harry's mind still functioned even in that terrifying circumstance. Before long, Hermione noticed the distinct scent of wet moss and seaweed. A minute after she sensed it, the lake made its appearance at the bottom of a small decline in the earth.

"Quick; don't stop!" Harry screamed as Hermione felt her legs weaken and slow. Breathing was now like inhaling through red-hot, fiery lungs, and her legs burned so fiercely Hermione feared her muscles ripping in two.

Watching her teeter on the edge of unconsciousness, Ron swept her off her feet, and – despite the difficulty of running with her in his arms – he managed to get both of them to the edge of the lake.

But they were too late. One of the Neo-Death Eaters had somehow taken a detour and now crept toward them from the left side of the lake, his wand raised and pointed straight at Harry.

Like a film in slow motion, Hermione watched the Death Eater's lips curl and mouth the killing curse.

"NO!"

A blast of green light jetted out of the man's wand, and Hermione flung herself out of Ron's arms and toppled Harry to the ground. Hermione looked up to find the green jet a few feet away, blinding her as it came closer and closer to its target.

Instinctively, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as she lowered herself completely over Harry, protecting him the best she could.

Her last thought was: _Please, God, don't let them be killed after me._

But the deadly impact of the curse never hit. Even with her eyes closed, Hermione felt a new presence nearby. A deep, smooth voice cried a spell and, in response, a scream echoed across the water.

Jolted back, Hermione whipped her eyelids open and instantly thought she was dreaming. Draco Malfoy, a dark cloak covering his body, cried out spell after spell at the converging Neo-Death Eaters. One Death Eater, the one who had almost succeeded in killing her, lay about a dozen feet from her and Harry. His body was sprawled out in the sand. He was not moving.

The remaining ones were starting to retreat, and the reason was obvious to Hermione: they no longer knew who they had permission to kill. Draco, the "leader" of the Neo-Death Eaters, had just saved the trio from death by his own cult's hand. He still protected them now, and the Death Eaters were shocked senseless at this occurrence. One by one, they Disapparated in the sand and left the trio alone with Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy's body shook as he clutched his wand with a white-knuckled grip. His teeth were clenched and his jaw shook with…anger? Revulsion?

It took a moment for Harry and Ron to come back to reality. But when they did, the effect was immediate: the air around them thickened with the men's hate. Harry pulled himself out from under Hermione and, before Hermione could protest, pushed her behind him and silently warned her to remain there with one dangerous look. Ron took his place at Harry's side, and the revulsion on his face rivaled Draco's.

"Give me one good reason why I should not kill you right here, Malfoy!" Harry's cry boomed across the lake and frightened the birds nestled in the nearby trees.

"One good reason?" Draco drawled, his tone considerably softer and less fierce than Harry's. "Maybe that I just saved you and Granger from death, Potter. Is that reason enough for your condemnatory mind?"

Fierce red and gold sparks shot out of Harry's wand, but Draco simply glanced at them with interest.

"Whatever game you're playing at, _Draco_, it ends here!" Ron hissed, his wand tip inches from Draco's heart. "You've done something to Hermione that's poisoned her. She thinks that you're not responsible for this! She doesn't believe you're out to kill her! That's why we're to kill you before you can do the same to her."

At these words, Draco and Hermione's eyes met and lingered for a long, silent moment. Draco's eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he seemed to be silently asking her if Ron spoke the truth…if she truly believed he wasn't plotting her demise. Hermione glimpsed another weakening emotion in his eyes before he glanced back to Harry and Ron and the connection was broken.

Draco remained silent for awhile before he spoke in a soft, almost peaceful voice. "I am not responsible for the thoughts that run through Granger's head. I have placed no spell upon her that changes how she feels. But I doubt you believe that, Weasley."

"To hell I don't!" Ron spat, pressing his wand deep into Draco's chest. Hermione flinched and sat up higher on her knees, but Harry pushed her back down before she could rise.

"Before we kill you," Harry began, "I'd like to know _why._ Why Hermione? Why not me? If you're after information, I'd be more likely to know it than her." Such terrible hatred poured from his body that a chill rushed through Hermione. She had never seen her best friends look so…dangerous. They really did seem willing and able to kill.

And Draco looked…resigned to it. He was now calm, free of tension, his wand stowed in his trouser pocket. This terrified Hermione worse than the darkness in her friends' eyes. The truth was obvious: Draco wasn't going to fight them. He wasn't going to try and protect himself. Harry and Ron could cry the curse at any second, and he wouldn't be able to react in time…

Hermione's chest heaved, the tears starting to burn, and she cried out before she could stop herself.

"Draco, no!"

Three pairs of eyes rested upon her in total astonishment. No one seemed to breathe as Hermione felt their unspoken questions weigh down upon her like stones. She sunk lower onto the ground.

The attack came unannounced and from a distant corner of the trees. A sharp blast of light struck Harry directly, and he crumbled to the ground with a piercing scream, blood soaking through his shirt.

Hermione's heart seemed to stop as she glanced back and noticed the one Neo-Death Eater who had not left them. He smiled as he crept closer to his target, his wand still aimed at the writhing Harry on the ground.

Hermione didn't know what to do as she watched Harry bleed to death in front of her. Crimson fluid soaked the sand and drifted in small streams toward the water, where it coloured the clear liquid with sinister swirls.

"GO!" Draco screamed at whoever would listen. He already had his wand out, and he blasted spells at the Death Eater in rapid succession.

"Hermione, grab on!" Ron called to her. His voice seemed to travel to her from a distance. The sounds bounced off her brain and never sunk in.

He wanted her to Disapparate with him, she finally understood. Ron clutched a semi-conscious Harry as he held out a shaking hand to her. Hermione had barely grasped his fingers when a spell zoomed above her hand, its heat burning her skin.

Hermione screamed and pulled her hand back impulsively. When she looked up again, Ron and Harry were gone. They had Disapparated without her.

Panic flooded her mind and she couldn't move. Her heart pounded painfully against her chest and a tear slipped from her eye. It was all over now. Surely the death curse was being aimed at her this very second…

Someone grabbed her arm, and she screamed and jerked in its grip, but she was in a vulnerable position and couldn't escape. Suddenly the lake and woods disappeared in a dizzying blur and her feet left the ground.

The next moment, her feet hit something hard like rock, and she slipped on the wet surface. Strong arms grabbed her and held her tight.

"Stop! You're safe now."

The ocean, she soon discovered, stood directly beside them, and its deafening roar made it difficult to catch the words spoken to her. But she couldn't mistake the comforting arms around her for anyone else.

Draco had saved her from death once more.


	15. Hearts So Alike

**Chapter Fifteen: Hearts So Alike…**

Hermione couldn't catch her breath as the wind tossed unforgiving blasts of ocean spray onto both their helpless bodies. Soon Hermione and Draco were soaked, dripping and freezing in the damp cave they found themselves in. The cave's rounded enclosure provided little protection from the wind, which gusted in their direct location. All the elements seemed to be meeting them head-on.

Something in her mind screamed at her to stop, but Hermione found herself pulling away from Draco's grip and limping toward the opposite side of the cave. She was sobbing now, although it was difficult to tell with the amount of water being tossed at her with ruthless force. But it was not the cold she felt now; it was the aching of her heart, the panic in her mind – she ached for Harry, longing to know what had happened to him; she ached for Ron and his comfort; but mostly she ached for…for…

She couldn't say it. Couldn't think it; it was too foreign a feeling. What had happened to her? To her heart? Hermione Granger had become a stranger to herself.

They stood a few feet apart, clutching their soaked garments in a futile attempt at warming themselves. Hermione could hardly make Draco out in the rise and fall of the sea spray, but she struggled to make herself heard.

"Where t..the _hell _did you bring us, Malfoy? We escape death to become f..frozen by the sea?"

"Like y..you had a better idea!" Draco screamed back, his jaw shaking as fiercely as Hermione's. "They'll n..never find us here!"

Hermione stumbled toward him, hardly thinking now as she grabbed the front of his shirt and cried into his deathly pale face. "Why didn't you l..let them kill me back there? Why are you s..still acting like my hero?"

Draco let out a shout of disbelief, his lips barely cooperating as he tried to smile. He shakily took Hermione's face between his cold, dripping hands.

"I n..never thought I'd see the d..day when Hermione Granger was ignorant of s..such an obvious answer!" he belted out, laughter and cold combining to shake his body. He struggled to hold Hermione's face up toward his, but she clutched onto him desperately. The wind seemed to be pushing them closer together…or were they doing that themselves?

"D..don't you realize the truth?" Draco leaned down and whispered in her ear. "I'm…I'm in love with you, Hermione."

Hermione's eyes widened as her mind comprehended his soft words, and her heart's pace frantically increased as she stared up into the eyes of a man who had acquired a whole new persona. She watched his own eyes widen with fear when she failed to respond, but when he timidly tried to back away, she grabbed his shirt and hauled him back into her arms.

"Draco Malfoy, you n..never cease to amaze me! Of all the m..moments to tell me…"

His face broke into the widest, purest grin she had ever seen.

"I'm not your typical man," he replied huskily.

Hermione had just regained her normal breathing when Draco's mouth latched eagerly onto hers. Instantly, a fire roared within her soul. She forgot the cold, she forgot the sea spray, she forgot why she was even freezing in a small cave as she clutched onto Malfoy with all the strength and longing inside her. She opened her mouth wider to let him in, kissing him with such maddening fury she almost forgot to breathe.

So powerfully were they clutching at each other, they forgot their surroundings and tumbled over. Draco threw Hermione on top of him so that he landed on the cave floor first. His shirt tore against a jagged rock and blood oozed from his side. Hermione pushed herself up on her elbows and gazed at him with horror, but Malfoy merely grinned.

"I was just about to take that off anyway."

Her laugh caught in her throat as Draco tore off his shirt to reveal the hard muscles of his abs and chest.

Before she could move, Draco glanced concernedly at the ocean roaring beside their small shelter. "Hurry; let's move farther back before we die from hypothermia."

He took her by the hand and led her far back underground. The cave went further than Hermione ever thought. Once Draco had stopped at a warmer spot, he hardly paused to catch his breath before he pulled her down and centered himself on top of her. His lips eagerly met hers again, and his sweet tongue pushed itself between her teeth.

He was ghostly pale and still soaked to the core, but Hermione noticed none of that as she wrapped her arms around his neck and lost herself in the kiss.

Draco was smothering her with his weight, so she pulled back and gently pushed him over. Passion stifled her ordinary shyness and modesty as she confidently lowered herself on top of him, slowly kissing the lean contours of his abs.

Draco groaned with pleasure as she made her way downwards. Somehow, all her deepest, most secret fantasies were coming true all in one sudden, overwhelming moment.

But lying across him spread a weakening weariness through her limbs, and Hermione unwillingly rested her head across the smooth skin of his chest. Her body shuddered involuntarily, and she closed her eyes to block out the frightful images of that day: she, Harry and Ron racing endlessly through the trees, being trapped by the lake, and Harry…Harry cursed in front of her. How his blood had seeped into the pure sand and…

"Shh. Don't cry, Hermione," came Draco's soft, caressing voice. "Forget all that happened and sleep. I won't let anything happen to you. Trust me."

Her lips twitched into a small smile before sleep cast its comforting spell upon her.

Hermione awoke surrounded in warmth. It was a sensation she recognized but hadn't experienced since her childhood. She remembered those days when she was little: it began with a fall from her bike or a tree, and her little knees were scraped (a traumatic experience for a five-year-old). Her mother, ever watchful, had taken her into her arms straightaway and kissed her injuries before placing a bandage over the blood. Then she would be cuddled and sung to until little Hermione didn't remember what she had been crying about.

It was not her mother who held her close now, but the sensation in her heart was identical. Hermione's eyes fluttered open to rest upon Malfoy, who was smiling down upon her.

"Sleep well?" He leaned down to kiss her repeatedly on one cheek. "You slept all day."

Hermione smiled and closed her eyes again, hardly daring to believe this was reality. Perhaps she hadn't quite awoken from her dreams yet. No one was this lucky in the real world.

It took her awhile to notice the thick blanket wrapped around her body. A salty sea breeze twitched her nose, and she turned her head to gaze at the gentle waves on the ocean's shore. There was no reminder of the ferocious storm that had almost killed her and Draco the night before.

She turned to gaze into Draco's loving eyes. "Where did you…"

"I took a little trip this morning," he told her. "I knew you'd be worried, so I swallowed my pride and went to see how Potter was doing."

Hermione's heart jumped at these words. How could she have forgotten? How could she have…  
"Don't look so horrified, Hermione," Draco cut into her frantic thoughts. "It pains me to see your lovely face twisted like that. Potter is recovering well. Weasley got him to St Mungo's just in time." His face darkened, and Hermione somehow knew that he wasn't remembering the attack at all. He was thinking about the day almost three years ago when Harry had hit Draco with the very curse Harry now recovered from. Hermione didn't know how Draco felt about Harry's injuries now…maybe she didn't want to know.

"I can't _believe _that we…we…were _snogging _when Harry was…"

Draco chuckled at her screwed up face. "Hermione, don't feel guilty. Potter was in good hands, and we had to stay hidden for a good while until it all settled down. It was a nice…distraction."

Hermione oddly found the wicked gleam in his eyes attractive. She ignored Draco's sudden change in language: although he still refused to say "Harry" or "Ron", he had given up calling her by her surname. He was using her given name as if he had never called her by anything else.

"It wasn't the worst night in your life, right?"

His question wasn't completely sarcastic, so Hermione felt the urge to reassure him. She took his face between her hands and whispered, "It was the most magical night of my life. And that's the truth."

Draco smiled contentedly and leaned his head against the cave wall.

The stillness caused Hermione's thoughts to wander, which, before long, brought her back to the dangerous reality they now found themselves in.

"Draco." Her eyes met his worriedly. She was afraid to speak of it, but her fears had to be let out at one time or another. They couldn't avoid it now that it was so…obvious. "Draco, what are we to do now? Not just about…you and me, but about your parents and the Neo-Death Eaters. You're in such trouble now that you saved me and Harry from those fiends. What will your father do to you? Will he…hurt you?"

Her heart jumped at the mere thought of Draco in pain.

Draco kissed her on the lips reassuringly. "Please don't worry about that, love. Now that I know you're not going to leave me, I can deal with any consequence that comes my way."

"But Draco…"

"Shh." He held a finger to her lips. "Don't spoil this, please. I just want to lay here with you all evening. I want to be away from it all and pretend nothing exists besides us. Can you do that for me?"

Hermione responded by snuggling closer to his heart and closing her eyes. She felt his light kisses upon her head and watched the setting sun cast sparkling rays onto the water's dancing surface.

It truly felt like they were the only two people on the face of the earth.

When she awoke next, it was the dawn of another day. Which day, Hermione wasn't exactly sure. Time had escaped her since Draco had first brought her to the cabin. That day now seemed so long ago. So much had changed since the fire at the Burrow, when she was so sure that Draco Malfoy had achieved his continuous goal of making her life miserable.

The ocean was placid and glowing under the rising sun. Squinting, Hermione made out the dark silhouette of a man far out on the sand. His bleach blond hair and unbuttoned white shirt flowed gently in the breeze. Hermione contentedly watched him for awhile. Here, by the sea, he looked…peaceful. Beautifully and entirely undisturbed.

But that false image shattered when Hermione approached him and saw his face. His jaw was tight, the corners of his lips pulled back in a grimace. His creased forehead caused his pale eyebrows to fall over his piercing grey eyes. He barely acknowledged her presence when she lightly placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Draco?"

She waited for him to speak. She had learned from experience how foolish it was to try and force anything out of Malfoy.

"I don't know what my life has become, Hermione," he whispered. Hermione watched his eyes dart back and forth across the horizon, as if he were waiting for something to erupt across the sky. "I used to be content at playing the game my parents had created. I had accepted the fact that I could never live the life I wished to. But now, for the first time, I'm fulfilling my deep-set desires - those silly dreams I knew would always be fantasies. But now that it's all coming true…I don't know what the hell to do." He turned toward her, the helplessness in his gaze freezing her to the spot. "Do you know why I left you that night in the cabin?"

Hermione swallowed hard to ease her suddenly dry throat. "N..no. No, I don't. You were…frightening."

Draco dropped his head slightly. "I will never forgive myself for that. Never. It was completely reckless and so unlike me…but I had finally lost it. You were driving me mad, Hermione; simply _mad_."

Hermione's defenses rose. "If anything, I think it should have been the opposite. _I _was the captive, after all."

Draco's eyes widened as he studied her. "You really had no idea? You didn't see what…"

Hermione's quizzical stare was answer enough.

Draco chuckled low in his throat. "That's bloody remarkable. Everything you did, everything you said was torture for me. The way you carefully brushed out your hair in the morning, the sly jokes you passed me when I was being difficult, and the softness of your face when you slept. Why do you have to be so damn _attractive_, Granger?"

Hermione was torn between laughing and glaring at him for his tone. She decided on the latter. "And why do _you _have to be secretive? No one would know how you were feeling even if you screamed it aloud. Everything about you is mysterious, Malfoy! Lucky for you, that only makes you more…striking." Blood rushed to her face, and she lowered her head in embarrassment. Malfoy must have seen her cheeks redden, though, because he smiled down at her.

Lowering himself down on the sand, he motioned for her to join him. She did, though she hesitated before laying her head on his shoulder. Sharing such intimacy with Draco was something she would have to get used to. It still seemed so…forbidden.

"If you didn't seem so…solid beside me," Draco began slowly. "I would pass this all off as another dream. Never would I have expected you to fall for such an arrogant git such as myself unless I gave you a love potion."

Hermione lifted her head and frowned. "You _didn't_, did you?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Draco laughed openly. "Hermione Granger, I may not have been Head Boy, but I'm not thick enough to break _that _kind of law. Besides, it wouldn't have been as enjoyable if you were forced to believe I was your knight in shining armour."

"Really?"

He kissed her forehead gently. "Really. I'm enjoying this so much more when you're sane and honest."

Hermione hoped he wouldn't notice, but she saw his eyes follow her hair twirling.

"You're anxious," he noticed quietly.

Hermione sighed. "You're going to hate me, but I…really need to see Harry and Ron. I feel so terrible being here while they're trying to heal at St Mungo's. I need to go back."

For a moment, she thought he was going to deny her request. Then he took her hand and squeezed it.

"Then we'll go back into the lion's den," he murmured.


	16. The Vengefulness of Ronald Weasley

**Chapter Sixteen: The Vengefulness of Ronald Weasley**

Ron Weasley usually didn't remember his dreams. Sometimes he'd recall someone who was there, or some silly discussion between him and his friends. But that night was different. That night his dream pierced his mind so vividly he could have written it all down, relaying every word.

But it was not the sort of dream he would willingly tell his friends about.

It began on a ship. A pirate ship, no less. Ron leaned over the deck, staring distractedly down into the deep blue. Powerful waves rocked the ship from side to side until Ron clutched the beaten wood with both hands. He was thankful he hadn't eaten a large lunch.

"Weasley! Get your arse off deck and help me with the colours!"

Ron glanced up and squinted against the rising sun. Captain Harry Potter glared down at him from aloft as he tried to raise the ship's flag. The sweat on his muscled, overly-tattooed body glistened in the filtering rays of the sun, and Ron frowned despite himself.

_How does that git always manage to look good even when doing the most mundane of tasks?_

"You should have asked me to do it first, Captain," Ron called out, shrugging off his vest and approaching the mast. "That's not a task for…"

"Stop your yapping, Weasley, and help me with the pulley!"

Ron glowered and muttered something obscene. When the task was completed and the colours flapped victoriously in the breeze, Harry jumped down and gave him the condescending look Ron knew too well.

"Where is Malfoy? He was supposed to be at the helm. That boy's in for a good lashing if he doesn't obey orders. What if we're off course?"

"I dunno, Captain." Ron kept his voice steady and clasped his hands behind his back. "I believe he's astern for a moment…"

"_Malfoy!"_

Ron winced as Harry screamed over his shoulder. A second passed before Draco Malfoy bolted out of the cabin, his face betraying nothing. His filthy, bare chest rose and fell rapidly as he ran forward. He stopped a few feet in front of the captain.

"Malfoy, who is at the helm?" Harry's suspicious glare could have weakened the strongest man, but Malfoy was no ordinary man. He hardly blinked as he kept a level gaze with Harry. Ron hated him for it. "You abandon your post to go polish your _precious _weapons. What is the most important rule in the pirate code?"

"'Everyone shall obey orders'," Malfoy recited with a bored drone. "Yes, Sir; I comprehend my failure. But I believed her to be quite competent."

Harry's eyes widened. "_Her? _Bloody hell, you didn't let that tramp enter the bridge? A _woman _at the helm, Malfoy! Damn you; you've cursed us all!"

Ron's stomach tightened, but he bit back the nasty retort in his mind. He may be under Harry's command, but that gave him no right to treat his girlfriend like a piece of shit. She may be a woman, but she had _feelings_ like the rest of them!

Harry raced off to the bridge screaming with full force. "_Avast! _Get your filthy hands off my wheel, you degraded…"

Ron squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the horrid words Harry yelled without mercy.

"Well done, Weasley." Ron opened his eyes and sneered at Malfoy's gloating face. "You've let the Captain down _again _by letting your uncontrollable pet run amuck."

"Pet?" Ron gasped. "_Pet? _Malfoy, you filthy son of a…"

Malfoy dodged the blow Ron directed at him and took off laughing. "This isn't over yet, Draco!" Ron yelled at his retreating back. "One day you'll pay for your words!"

Cries from the bridge took his mind off Malfoy, and Ron followed his enemy to the helm where he found a grim scene.

"Stop, Captain!"

Harry peered up at his audience as he held Hermione Granger high over the bow. He smiled charmingly. "Weasley, I gave you your last chance a fortnight ago. I said she could stay here alive until we reached the next port, but only _if _she promised to be seen and not heard. And that includes taking charge of any officer's duties!"

"Spare her, Captain!" Ron begged, falling to his knees and raising his arms. "Take me in her place. I'm the reason why she's causing trouble; I give her too much freedom! I'll take the lash or the sword in her place! Please…"

"It's Malfoy who'll take the lash this time," Harry proclaimed. "At least forty for trusting a _woman. _The deadliest of sins…"

Hermione opened her mouth for the first time, unwilling to be a by-stander. "No! Draco, you mustn't take punishment for my own crimes!"

The passion in her voice and her frantic gazes at Malfoy tore open Ron's heart. Sweat grew on his forehead as the truth filtered into his brain - the truth he had known for so long but had covered up.

The tense silence brought the truth to Harry as well, and he smiled wickedly before setting Hermione on her feet. Tears glistened in her brown eyes as she flew into Draco's arms without one glance at Ron.

"Ah," Harry murmured, facing Ron with a smirk. "I see I was ignorant from the beginning. There is more to this woman than meets the eye. What entertainment she has brought to this dull ship! I guess I'll keep her alive to see what her presence does to you, Weasley, as you watch her sleep in another man's arms. That'll be punishment enough."

"NO! NO!"

"Ron!"

Someone held his arms down and he stopped flailing. His eyelids flew open to land on Harry's furrowed brow.

"What happened to you, mate?" Harry whispered, releasing him and sitting on the bed. "I've never heard you scream in your sleep like that."

Ron shook himself awake, his face reddening when he realized his sheets were damp with sweat. "Hell, I don't know," he murmured, rubbing his face with both hands. "I had the weirdest dream…wait, why are you up? You're supposed to be bed-ridden! Doesn't it hurt?"

Harry shrugged unconcernedly. "I'm a lot better; it doesn't really hurt to move. I was more worried about you. It sounded like your dream was about…Hermione."

Ron shook his head and rolled onto his side. "I don't want to talk about her."

"You're gonna have to tell me what's going on soon, Ron. Ever since she left with Draco…well, I guess I have the same suspicions as you. But until we find her, we can't make any conclusions. We have to approach the subject cautiously."

"Cautiously." Ron spat the word. "Sure, whatever."

Harry opened his mouth to continue but shut it, instead running a hand through his hair. "Just get some sleep, mate. I'm sure we'll be seeing her soon enough." He sighed and left the room, leaving Ron alone in his own unspeakable anguish.

_If Malfoy has laid one hand on her, or forced her to do anything against her will…_Ron hissed through his teeth, tightening his grip on the bed sheets. _That son of a bitch will die!_

The next morning, Hermione and Draco stopped at St Mungo's Hospital to see if Harry was still admitted. When they were told that he had been discharged the previous evening, they both knew where he and Ron were.

They Apparated in the front yard of the Burrow around noon. The sun's fierce heat burned Hermione's shoulders as she faced Draco, both her hands clasped in his.

"I can't do this." Hermione studied their intertwined hands and became fearful, as if God Himself could see their connection and frowned down in anger. "Ron will know, Draco. He'll know instantly and what will he do then? I've…I've torn apart our relationship and he'll hate me forever. I don't think I can live with that."

Draco let her fall into his arms and sob while he softly caressed her thick, brown curls. "You need to tell him the truth, and whatever comes after that will come. You will hurt him, but I'm sure he'll…" He stopped himself, and Hermione tensed in his arms.

It was unspoken, but they both knew that that day would be the end of the trio, the dissolving of friendships that had been built almost a decade ago and strengthened through the years. Ron would never want to see her again, and Hermione wouldn't be surprised if Harry refused her friendship as well.

"You still have options," Draco murmured, pulling Hermione from his chest and staring deep into her eyes. "If you walk in that door with me, you're going to lose them forever. But if you make me go and walk in there alone…everything will be the same. No one will be hurt, for I will still love you no matter what you do."

Hermione barely let him finish before she shook her head, wiping her eyes frantically as they burned with tears. "No, Draco. I've made my choice; I cannot be away from you. But I don't want you to come with because I'm so afraid they'll…they'll hurt you!"

Draco carefully brushed the tears from her cheeks. "Don't worry about me; I can take care of myself."

Hermione smiled sadly. "I know."

They met their fate at the front door of the Burrow, for Ron and Harry had seen them outside and viewed the truth in broad daylight. As Hermione and Draco approached them, hands entwined, Hermione had eyes only for Ron.

She had never seen such hatred in his eyes. His face, a fiery red, was example enough of the near future. Ron's wand – clutched tightly in his fist – shot sparks at the grass, and Harry already had a firm grip on his arm to hold him back.

Hermione was prepared for him to fire at her, but she did not see his eyes dart to Draco.

It happened quickly. Ron threw Harry to the side like a rag doll and charged dead straight for Draco. Draco prepared himself at a moment's notice, and Hermione flew to the ground as he shoved her out of Ron's firing range.

"RON, NO!"

Her scream did nothing to alter his course. Ron's silent spells – spells Hermione knew had only one aim – flew mercilessly toward the blond. Draco's wand shot out of his pocket, and he pared Ron's spells a split second before they hit.

Hermione could only watch with sickening nausea as the two boys she cared most about fought each other to the death. Harry did not intervene, though his face was as pale as hers.

_This has to stop; I have to do something!_

The moment she rose and drew her wand, Draco slumped to the ground, his hand clutched at his torn side. Ron raised his arm to fire the final curse, but Hermione acted first. Her action pierced her heart and made her head throb, but she cried out the spell on instinct – _"Petrificus totalus!" _

It one second it was over. To an outside observer, the scene would appear odd - Ron, immobilized on the ground, with no one rushing to his aide; Hermione, clutching her chest and sobbing, gazed at Draco. Draco stemmed his blood flow with his wand, and his breaths came unevenly as he peered up at Hermione.

He did not speak, for Harry's steps came ever nearer, but Hermione knew he said, _"Don't worry about me. I'll come back for you."_ And he Disapparated.

In the future, Hermione would remember very little about the remainder of that day. She would recall short moments of Harry uncursing Ron and then paralyzing her before he dragged her up to her bedroom in the Burrow.

Before he locked her in, Harry spoke to her quietly, but his words came to her slowed and distant. "We need to know what to do with you. I'll stop Ron from entering, but you'll need to face him in the near future. You'll be trapped here until you give a truthful explanation for what the hell happened to your mind."

Her tears could not be stemmed, nor could the ache in her chest be lessened. She hardly ate the food offered to her, and she refused to speak to anyone. She tried to discover a way to contact Draco, but she had no means of communication.

It was not until the third night of her isolation when she noticed the rose on the windowsill. It was long and freshly cut, its thorns sharp and painful against her fingertips. The moment she touched the soft petals, the red rose flashed a vibrant emerald green and dazzled her with its enchanted beauty.

Hermione spent the rest of that night on the floor, holding the green rose to her chest and shedding shameful tears onto the petals.

She cried onto the rose in the slim hope that he would hear her sobs and know she loved him.


	17. Allies and Enemies

**Chapter Seventeen: Allies and Enemies**

The howls pierced through her dreams and sent her bolting upright in the dark. She held a hand to her racing heart as she tried to discern the source of the noise. Was she still dreaming or were the howls real?

Pushing back her duvet, she shivered in the chill air and pulled on the jumper hanging over her desk chair. Leaning to peer out her second story window, the hairs on her arms stood up.

A large wolf with glowing red eyes stared unblinkingly up at her. Hermione held her breath, waiting for it to act in some way, but it only held her gaze.

It took her awhile to remember, for the event seemed so long ago. But the forest came back, the voices, the fierce eyes of the shirtless men. She recalled the words she had played through her mind a dozen times:

_"What do you know about werewolves, Hermione Granger? What if I told you that the werewolves are just another species after what you lot have hidden?"_

_ So it starts again, _Hermione thought as she watched two more wolves creep out of their enclosure. _The hunt for the ultimate weapon. Why are Harry and Ron so upset over my outings with Draco Malfoy when war is at our doorstep?_

She knew what she had to do. It would hurt Ron and Harry and make them even more distrustful and hostile toward her, but she had to help protect the Elder Wand. Keeping the wand out of the Neo-Death Eaters' hands was more important – in her mind – than anything else.

And the first step to achieving that goal was discovering whose side the werewolves were on.

Harry and Ron had placed a spell on her bedroom, making it impossible for her to Disapparate anywhere. But they had forgotten one crucial piece of information – Hermione had grown up a Muggle. She knew more ways of getting out of a bedroom than with magic.

Magicking a thick rope out of midair (her wand thankfully still resided with her), she tied a knot to the edge of her desk and prayed that it would hold until she was far enough down to jump.

After tying a coat to her waist and stuffing the last of her dinner into the pockets, she crept out of the window and down the rope. She worked her way down cautiously, moving so slowly her hands burned against the rope's rough threads.

The wolves watched her with interest, and she swore one laughed with a wide, toothy grin. Hermione didn't dare think what would become of her if she had judged wrong and the wolves simply wanted to snack off of her.

Hermione's feet slapped against the ground, and she staggered for a moment. Her lips twitched into a satisfied smile as she took out her wand and vanished the rope. Just for good measure, she shut the window with a small _snap_. She knew she had to be swift now so she wouldn't be stopped.

The wolves – all four of them with their huge, glowing eyes – seemed to be following a predetermined plan. The leader of the bunch took off toward the woods with the agility of a much larger animal. Soon its shape was but a blur in the black of the night.

Sharp teeth nipped at her heel and Hermione jumped, muffling her shriek with a hand. "I'm _coming_," she hissed. The black wolf's golden eyes crinkled with delight.

_So they want to play with me, _she thought with mixed emotions. _I hope they stick with the playful bites and stay away from my throat. _

Hermione didn't muse long over that chilling thought. Glancing up at the Burrow to see if any lights had been switched on (thankfully none had), she clutched her wand and raced after the wolves.

She found them all in their human form once she stopped beside them in the darkest part of the trees. The leader – the dark brunette Rubin – stepped out a few paces from the pack and peered down at her with chilling red eyes. Hermione's blood ran cold, but she refused to show weakness. She guessed, though, that they could smell her fear like a foul stench on the wind.

"Hermione Granger, what an honour to see you again."

She waited, silent and still, her right hand still tightened around her wand.

"Have you not been introduced to my pack members?" He raised a hand in a regal gesture and motioned to each male as he spoke their names. "Gavin, Kai, Rhys, Taryn, and Griffin. We've all been rejected from society, scorned and hated for a part of us we cannot help. You are unique among your kind, Hermione Granger, for not doing the same."

Sympathy crept into her mind and relaxed her clutch on her wand. "Why would I treat you as an inferior when I've been called a mudblood for most of my life? I know all too well the pain of not fitting in."

The memories came unbidden, for whenever she thought of people calling her that revolting name, she thought mostly of one. How could it be that the boy she had despised more than life, the one she dreamt of cursing every night, was now her only light in these gloomy days? Was fate _that _mysterious?

"You think of him often, I see."

She started, pulling herself back to the men in front of her. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't mean to…"

Rubin smiled, and this time it was almost kind. "Do not think us naïve, Miss Granger. We have been in contact with your Draco for more than a year now. We know all about the secretive, entirely forbidden affair between the two of you."

Her jaw dropped slightly. _Affair? Who was he to call…_

"Perhaps that was the wrong word to use." Rubin read the look on her face too clearly. "I apologize."

Kai, the shortest of the bunch with spiked blond hair, grumbled in his throat and took a step toward his leader. "Enough of this useless prattle, Rubin. That Potter boy could be searching for her as we speak."

Rubin nodded slowly. "Miss Granger, we are aware that you know the whereabouts of the Elder Wand. How do you plan to use this information now that the Neo-Death Eaters are searching all across the U.K. for it?"

Hermione didn't know how to respond. She had never thought about her own specific actions in the ordeal, apart from trying to keep the information a secret.

She told them as much, and several werewolves cast distrustful glances at each other. Rubin stroked his chin and did not respond for awhile.

Hermione decided to let it all spill out. Nothing could be gained from silence. "The Wand is hidden well. Only a few people besides me know where it is hidden, so I have some faith that we don't need to actively keep the Neo-Death Eaters away."

Rubin frowned, his eyes deep and serious. "So you aren't aware of Malfoy's task?"

Her eyes widened. "I…I had forgotten the details. I only know that he was supposed to get the information out of me for his father. I don't think he ever truly planned to torture me because…of his feelings." She blushed and lowered her head. Pangs of embarrassment hit her, and she hoped they didn't ask further questions on _that _topic.

Rubin ignored her discomfort and continued without a change to his tone. "Miss Granger, Draco's orders were to kill you if you did not give up the information willingly. If he did not follow through, his parents plan to. Draco is currently holding off his parents' actions by feigning that he is still working on you, but that charade is expiring. It is only a matter of days before the truth is revealed and your capture is at hand. There will be no hope for you once they lay a finger on you."

His brutally honest words hardened her gut and left her empty. She swallowed hard, but her voice still came out cracked and pathetic. "Where is he? Is he safe?"

"Like I'd leave you alone with these careless prats."

Draco's pale form crept around a tree, and Hermione's heart jumped in her chest. She smiled wide and ran to him, flying into his open embrace. His lips found hers and they savored the taste and scent of the other, ignoring their audience entirely. The crippling fears of the last minute vanished as Hermione lost herself in his arms.

But when her hands wandered to his chest, Draco grimaced and pulled back. It took a moment before Hermione realized why.

"Oh, Draco! I'm sorry; did he hurt you badly?"

Draco managed a sneer. "Weasley? No, that weakling couldn't affect me with a fifty pound club. But I shouldn't be speaking that way about your _boyfriend._"

She hated the mockery in his tone. Undoubtedly, he still had strong feelings against Ron which weren't likely to subside soon. "_Ex-_boyfriend, Malfoy! I don't think he'll be proposing any time soon after he realized how I feel about you. It's an unspoken break-up, I'm afraid."

Draco softened and kissed her cheeks. "You can do better than Weasel-boy anyway. You deserve a real man to take care of you."

She smiled. "I knew you'd say that. But why must you hate him so?"

He glowered slightly. "I don't _hate _him, but he and Potter have always been a thorn in my side; Weasley more so because of your relationship with him. I couldn't _stand _the way he hugged you to his side and protected you like you were his own possession."

She remained silent, allowing him to vent if he needed to. She could say nothing in reply, anyway. She couldn't take away his anger. She glanced quickly to the side and noticed their werewolf audience had dispersed.

As if a voice had spoken to him, Draco's jaw tightened and his eyes darted away from her. Something flashed across his face – a foreign emotion Hermione couldn't fathom – and he stepped back.

"Draco? What's wrong?"

After a moment, his gaze found hers again and he exhaled slowly. "I shouldn't have started off that way. I shouldn't be getting off topic…"

Hermione frowned. "Off topic? What…"

"Let me get this out, please. This will be difficult enough as it is." He ran a shaking hand through his hair and closed his eyes. Hermione sucked in her breath, not prepared for such mystery.

When he spoke again, something had changed. His body had stiffened, his eyes had hardened. He placed his hands in his trouser pockets and eyed her differently than he had a few seconds before.

"I've been considering the future carefully," he began slowly. "And I've come to a decision – a plan that I knew had to happen sooner than later, what with my parents searching for you and me. I saw the way Potter and Weasley eyed you when you walked up to the house holding my hand. I saw the anger in Weasley's eyes as he ran toward us. It would be unbelievably selfish of me to break up your friendship with Potter and Weasley, no matter how I feel about them. If you're determined to fight against the Neo-Death Eaters – which is undeniable – you cannot be with me. I've chosen my side, and I can't be your ally."

Hermione took in a shuddering breath. To her, the world had grinded to a halt. The squirrels had stopped rustling in the trees; the wind had stopped tugging at her hair. Time had frozen as she stared with growing panic at the man in front of her.

"Draco, no!" she gasped, her voice breaking. "_Please _stop now; you don't know what you're…"

"I'm not finished yet." Draco's voice turned dead and hollow, as if a ghost of himself was speaking. "You must pretend this whole…experience never happened. You never loved me; I never loved you. We've been enemies since our first year at Hogwarts, Granger. Both our lives would be at stake if we let the world know that had changed."

Hermione backed away clutching her hand over her open mouth. His whole presence had changed in an instant, reminding her terrifyingly of the Draco she had met whilst she'd been held captive. His cold and cruelly formal voice created chills up and down her back. And the worst of all…he had called her Granger. The Draco she had loved was gone.

He still spoke to her, but she had great difficulty listening. Each word he spoke directly attacked her heart.

"You will go back to Potter and Weasley and explain how I cursed you to love me. They will forgive you, and then you'll be able to focus on your task ahead. I must return to my parents and follow them unquestionably as they seek out the Elder Wand. If luck stays, they'll never find it."

"But they won't stop looking!" Hermione cried, flinging herself forward to cling onto his shirt. She had lost all rational thought and now acted on instinct. If Draco left her – left her forever – her survival was in jeopardy. "You're not thinking this through, Draco! Remember your task – if you don't kill me, your father will! I'm safer with _you_; I know it!"

"No." He carefully removed her clinging hands and stepped back, which further twisted Hermione's heart. "No, you're not safer with me. You're safer with Potter and the Ministry. They can give you far better protection than I can. If I stay with the Neo-Death Eaters, I can lead them off track and distract them long enough until one of your lot destroys the Wand. You know that's the only thing to be done now. And as for my father searching for you…" He swallowed hard and his face paled. A flash of pain crossed his face, a pain Hermione rarely saw on a man's features. "I'll take care of that."

"How? _How?_" Hermione pleaded and argued in the slight hope that he would see his plan as foolish. For that's what it was, she convinced herself. Anything that separated them was fool's logic!

"My father enjoys bargains," Draco simply said before detaching himself from her and turning away to walk deeper into the woods.

Hermione's heart jumped, and her frantic gasps for breath created sickening nausea. These few feet of separation from him were killing her, and it was all his fault!

She extended an arm, releasing tears as she screamed at him without restraint. "DRACO! Draco, why are you doing this to me? You said you cared, cared enough to try and save my life, but now you take back your words without mercy! What have I done, Draco? What did I do to keep you away from me? Did I not say often enough that I loved you?"

Draco kept his back to her so his face was hidden. But it was obvious he was not shaking with sobs like she wanted, nor was he hunched over in pain like she was. He had become as unemotional as Snape, and when he finally replied this proved true.

"I do this," he whispered. "Because sometimes, when you love someone, the greatest act of love is letting them go…for their own sake."

He Disapparated from her for the last time, leaving Hermione alone as she sobbed and screamed on the dead, cold leaves.

But she was not quite alone. A young man with piercing green eyes and dark, unruly hair watched her, his mind scrambling to comprehend everything he had just heard.


	18. Lost InBetween

**Chapter Eighteen: Lost In-between**

Hermione became so lost in her own world of isolation that she didn't realize why she suddenly felt comforted. Someone whispered in her ear – "Hush now, Hermione; it'll be alright" – but it was not the voice she longed to hear.

But it was a voice she loved, nonetheless…

"Harry?" She straightened slightly and rubbed her swollen eyes. "Harry, what…"

"Not now, Hermione; let's get you in the house." Without waiting for a response, Harry lifted her off the ground and carried her back to the Burrow.

Hermione closed her eyes and allowed the warmth of him to comfort and soothe her. She tried to thrust all of Draco's lies from her mind. It was all rubbish because she trusted him. Draco wouldn't speak such confusing words for no reason – there _had_ to be a reason. There had to be something beneath his hurtful words…if she could just figure it out…

"Here, drink this." The cold had seeped deeply into her, and her mind and body were only now beginning to function. Hermione took the proffered mug in a half-awake daze.

_Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, _Hermione thought with a content smile. _What else wakes someone up? _

Her audience (whom she soon discovered to be Ron and Harry), waited quietly as she sipped her drink and allowed her mind to wander.

When the men beside her came into clear focus, Hermione studied the couch she lay upon and the crackling fire warming her toes. She set her mug down and eyed her best friends cautiously. There was so much to be said, so many apologies to be released…

But Harry and Ron weren't her best friends for nothing. Even Ron, who had every right to attack her right now, sat beside Harry calmly in a straight-backed chair. Hermione met his eyes and hoped the compassion in hers would be a good start to the uncomfortable conversation ahead.

Hermione blurted out the first question that burned in her mind. "Why are you two so calm? And so…unnecessarily generous?" Blood rushed to her face, and she bit her lip. "I don't deserve this. I've caused too much…"

"Stop, Hermione," Ron murmured, folding his arms across his broad chest. His eyes narrowed but not unkindly. He merely studied her like an artist studying the subject of his painting. "I don't want you to apologize for the whole bloody night, although I'm glad you want to. I should be the first to admit I've been a prat myself these past few months. So I guess we're both equally to blame. And as for our calmness, you can thank Harry for that. I never knew how effectively the Calming Draught works on your nerves."

Hermione frowned at Harry. "But your potions usually aren't…"

Harry chuckled slightly. "Don't think I never went back to the Room of Requirement and got the Prince's book back – before the fire, of course. That thing can be damn useful in extreme cases such as this."

Hermione managed a smile and traced her finger along the rim of her mug. "I appreciate your efforts to speak to me humanely, no matter how much I don't deserve it. I hurt you both so terribly that I don't know when I'll ever forgive myself." A tear leaked from the corner of her eye, and she hastily brushed it away. She couldn't start off emotional or she'd never say all she wished to.

Ron twisted in his chair as if he wished to comfort her, but he stopped himself and leaned back instead. "Let's hear the story, then," he said.  
"Perhaps I'll be able to lessen my anger so I don't explode when this potion wears off."

Harry cast him a frustrated look. "Did I not just explain to you what I heard while Hermione slept?"

"Slept?" Hermione inquired. "I don't remember sleeping."

"You dozed off for about an hour. That was long enough for me to explain to Ron all that went on in the forest."

"Sounds like you made the whole thing up," Ron told Harry coldly. "After what we saw a few days ago, why would Malfoy freak and run off like that? For Hermione's _protection? _I thought you both were…" He stopped, clearing his throat uncomfortably and hardening his face.

Harry sighed and glanced at Hermione. "I think you'd better tell the truth, Hermione. The whole truth."

Hermione wished she had been given a Calming Draught as well. Her head spun and left her unstable, but she forced herself to think clearly. "We _were_ together," she whispered, focusing on the dancing flames in the fireplace. "It wasn't something either of us planned, or even _wished_ for. It just…happened. I never meant to hurt you, Ron; you have to believe that." She forced her eyes to meet his, but his face revealed none of his emotions. However, having him listen to her and not scream was good enough for her right then.

"We never talked about what we were going to do, but I wanted to speak to the both of you that day when…when we came here. Draco said I'd lose my friendship with you if I stayed with him, but I couldn't…" Her voice cracked and she took deep, steady breaths to stop a gush of tears. "I'm _so _sorry. That's all I can say now. I'm sorry I hurt you both; I'm sorry this had to be such a mystery. But you told me to be honest, so that's what I'm doing. I'm being honest when I say I _can't_ be away from him. I'm falling for him hard, which scares me more than you can imagine. And when he said we couldn't be together, I…I…" She shook her head with misery and allowed her eyes to well up. Harry and Ron did not speak, and Harry only moved enough to pass Hermione a tissue. The tense silence made her tears flow harder, but her friends let her release it all.

"Hermione," Harry said hesitantly after her sobs had calmed to sniffles. "Do you know why he would say such things? Why he'd desert you just after you both knew how the other felt?"

"He said he wanted to protect me," Hermione said, grabbing another tissue. "He said we couldn't be on the same side and let the world know we were together. He told me to destroy the Wand…but I guess you heard all that."

Harry sighed deeply and lowered his head. "I knew we'd be coming to that point soon. It's too dangerous keeping it in one place so long when our enemies are searching for it. The sooner it's destroyed, the sooner we can focus on keeping you safe. Don't think I didn't understand what you both were saying – I know you're in real danger, Hermione."

"And he's right."

Hermione started at Ron's deep voice.

"Not about you being in danger; that part's obvious." Ron clasped his hands together and leaned forward as if they were discussing battle plans. Hermione took in his seriousness and determination. Hurt lingered in his voice, but that didn't surprise her. What shocked her most was how well he handled it all. Was it merely the potion that kept his hateful emotions at bay?

"Malfoy's right about _what_, then?" Harry demanded.

"That she's safer with us. That being close to him would make it easier for both of them to be killed. If he keeps up the charade of being best mates with the Neo-Death Eaters, no one would easily suspect his treachery. He'll keep to his side, Hermione will keep to ours. We'll destroy the Elder Wand, and the Ministry will help us decide what to do after that."

Harry's frown deepened. "You make it seem too easy, Ron; especially the bit about Hermione being kept away from Draco."

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. No, she wouldn't interrupt. She wanted to hear what they thought. They deserved far more from her than an apology.

"We'll have to decide that later," Ron replied harshly. "The important thing now is to destroy the Wand and keep Hermione away from the Neo-Death Eaters, especially Malfoy's dad."

"So you don't…hate me?" Hermione's voice rose in hope. "You don't want to throw me in the direct path of Lucius Malfoy?"

Instantly, Ron knelt beside her and took her hand. He stared up at her, and her heart leapt to find the old flame of their love glistening in his eyes. But besides relaxing her, his compassion also struck her heart, for she was now directly reminded of all she had had with him…and could never have again.

"Hermione, I won't lie to you. You've hurt me far deeper than I could ever say, but just because you fell for a prat like Malfoy doesn't mean I've stopped loving you. No matter what happens between you and me now, I can honestly say that I will forever care about you. And _unlike_ Malfoy, I won't leave you alone. I won't let my emotions get in the way of fighting for you and protecting you."

Hermione sobbed and took him into her arms, a flood of different emotions falling down her cheeks. She couldn't process all that raced through her heart and mind, but she did know how much she loved him. She loved Ron Weasley now more than ever, and nothing that happened in the future could change that.

"So we have no choice, then."

Lucius Malfoy glared at his only child as he tossed the remainder of his mead down his throat. He winced as his throat burned before tossing his glass unconcernedly into the flames. The fire roared dramatically as it consumed the shards.

"_You've _given us no choice!" Lucius thundered, pounding his serpent staff onto the stone cobbled floor. "Your little game with the mudblood has failed disastrously, and now we must assemble a force to attack the trio before they can do the inevitable. They are, of course, aware of our intentions?"

Draco refused to meet his father's eye as he clasped his hands behind his back and glared ahead at the mantel. His silence spoke volumes.

"You _fool!_" Lucius' wand rose in an instant and a bolt of lightning crashed through the air, striking Draco in the chest. Draco groaned in pain but a second before he recomposed himself. Narcissa paled as she turned her face away and ignored them both.

"I don't know _what _happened between the two of you, but I do have a few theories." Lucius crept up to his son until their faces were inches apart. Draco struggled to keep his face relaxed, but he found his jaw clenching. "Trust me, Son; if any soft feelings have been created in your pitiful mind, you've only caused yourself more pain. Granger will be the first to die! You can take down Potter, I don't particularly care who does it as long as he's dead within minutes of our arrival."

"What an honour, Father," Draco muttered darkly.

Lucius thrust his cane into his son's chest, and this time Narcissa cried out her disapproval. "Shut it, Narcissa!" Lucius cried at her. "You should've learned by now the _right _way to discipline our son. A swat on the cheek is hardly sufficient for such a…"

"When you're done discussing proper parenting methods," Draco hissed without a hint of self-restraint. "I'd like to bring up the possibility of a bargain."

Lucius' wide brow furrowed, and he backed away. "A bargain? There are no bargains possible now, Son. You've gone far beyond the acceptable time for pleas and pacts."

"You may wish to reconsider," Draco replied steadily. "It concerns Granger."

Lucius arched an eyebrow. "Don't you dare try to spare her life, Draco. All three will die, preferably one at a time so they can watch each other perish. If we're swift, we may be able to complete the task before a single Ministry official Apparates to the scene."

"Are you able to listen properly, or is everything I say useless?"

Lucius' lips twitched into a sneer. "You're too much like me, Draco – arrogant and decisive. But go on, then. What brilliant plan have you conceived?"

Draco raised his chin higher to cover the churning of doubt in his mind. "Kill Potter and Weasley straightaway – they don't matter to me. But let me keep Granger. We'll bring her back here and you'll be free to torture the information out of her, but don't kill her now. She's more useful than you think, and if she's kept alive, there's the possibility of using the Imperius Curse on her and using her to spy on the Ministry. She'll be weakened after her friends' deaths, after all."

Lucius studied him for a long moment. "And what will you give me if I do this? If she is captured instead of murdered?"

Draco paused. "You can have the Elder Wand."

Narcissa gasped and rushed up to the two men. "Lies! Don't listen to him, Lucius; he's merely trying to save his own skin…and possibly the mudblood's. He's afraid because of how close he is to failure. How do you expect to obtain the Elder Wand, Draco, when you told us Granger never spoke a word? Ha! She held her tongue, you say, expect for – oops! – that one time when she spilled all!"

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. "Do you ever recall me saying _recently_ I got nothingout of her? I may have learned something today that I haven't spoken of until now." He turned back to Lucius. "Father, you have my solemn promise that, if I am still alive by the end of the battle, you will have the Elder Wand in your hands."

Draco's heart thudded against his ribcage, but his parents seemed not to hear it. They studied him skeptically, but Draco noticed a glint of satisfaction in his father's eyes.

"Your stakes are high, Draco; do I dare make them even higher? For example…what is to happen if you are still alive at the end but you _do not _fulfill your promise?"

Draco didn't hesitate. "Then you're free to do with my life as you wish."

Lucius smiled wickedly. "Then I believe I'll take your bargain."


	19. Deadly Masquerade

**Chapter Nineteen: Deadly Masquerade**

"Anything interesting in the post?"

Harry flicked through the stack of envelopes, tossing unwanted letters into a disorganized pile on the kitchen table. "All rubbish. Oh, except for this cute, perfume-y pink one from a girl in Wales…"

The flush drained from Ron's cheeks, and Hermione's head snapped up from _Advanced Rune Translation _(her fifth time reading it cover-to-cover). She turned to stare suspiciously at Ron. "Are you still seeing this girl?"

Ron held her powerful gaze. "So what if I am? _You_ don't seem against seeing other people in your spare time."

Hermione blushed and lowered her head, knowing she deserved that one. Ron softened and reached across the table to take her hand. "I'm sorry; I told myself I wouldn't make cracks like that."

"But I deserve them," Hermione murmured.

"Enough, Hermione!" Harry interjected, pushing the pink envelope toward Ron. "I don't want to hear another _word _of negativity from you, okay? What happened happened, and there's nothing either of you can do to take it back. It's obvious your relationship is over, so no one should be throwing around blame and hateful words about who's seeing who. Understood?"

Ron glowered and studied his pink letter half a second before tossing it in the rubbish bin.

Hermione stared. "What was _that _about?"

Ron shrugged unconcernedly. "I remember telling you before that the girl means nothing to me, although _she_ may think otherwise. I'm not going to seduce her just because I'm no longer seeing you."

Hermione studied him with growing respect. She knew of a dozen guys who'd do just that, and Ron honestly had every right to see that girl now. But he was refusing an open invitation, nonetheless.

Ron eagerly tried to kill the awkward silence. He leaned toward Harry and glanced at the envelope Harry studied intensely. "So…any love letters for _you_, Mr Potter? Oh yeah, you're married…that would be bloody wrong, wouldn't it?"

Harry didn't reply but continued to stare, transfixed, at the envelope.

Hermione stood and leaned over Harry's shoulder. The crooked, messy handwriting on the front was hard to decipher, but the letter appeared to be addressed to Harry. There was no return address.

"It's from Malfoy," Harry muttered after a moment.

Ron laughed, slapping his hand down on the table. "Good one, mate! Malfoy sending you love letters…now _that _was a twist I hadn't expected!"

Harry glared at him, destroying the smile on Ron's face.

Hermione's heart pumped irregularly. "How do you know it's from him?"

"I've seen his handwriting more than once." Harry tore open the envelope in one quick motion. "It's uniquely his."

Ron made to snatch the letter away, but Harry swerved out of his chair in time. Harry ignored Ron's protests as he paced by the fire, studying a one-page letter. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and waited as patiently as she could. But a thousand circumstances raced through her mind – Draco was injured and desperately writing for help, or maybe he was being held captive by his enraged parents who had discovered the truth about him and her.

Finally, she couldn't take the suspense. "Harry, what is it? And why did he write to _you?_" It stung a bit to know that whatever Draco had to say, he didn't trust her enough to address the letter to her.

Harry looked up, and Hermione's heart jumped at the fear on his face. Harry's hands shook and rattled the paper as he threw the letter into the fireplace. In a few seconds, everything Draco had written became a memory.

"What'd you do that for?" Ron protested.

"It's too dangerous to be lying around." Harry shakily reached for his wand on the kitchen table. "The both of you - grab your cloaks and wands and meet me by the door. We probably have a good ten minutes before they find us here."

Hermione didn't let his words fully sink in as she darted over to the coat rack and grabbed her black Hogwarts cloak. Ron was more suspicious.

"Care to _explain _anything before we leave for our mysterious destination? You accepted whatever that git wrote in ten seconds flat. I don't remember Malfoy being that persuasive before."

"If you wish to die, then by all means stay here!" Harry snapped as he fastened his cloak. "Otherwise, shut it until we get to the Ministry!"

Hermione waited by the door, trying to keep her fear under control as her breathing became erratic. She knew without much analysis that if Draco had decided to write to Harry (which was not an every day occurrence), the facts he had presented in writing had to be serious enough to threaten their lives. No matter how much anger remained in her from Draco's words in the forest, she trusted him entirely to take care of her. And apparently he cared enough to take care of Harry and Ron as well.

"What about Mum and Dad?" Ron asked after dragging himself beside his friends. "They're supposed to come home within the hour."

Harry withdrew his wand and muttered a few words. A bright, ghostly stag flowed out of his wand and galloped in midair before vanishing in a white mist. "There," he said, thrusting his wand back inside his cloak. "That'll let the whole family know not to return until further information comes."

Without another word, they joined hands and Disapparated.

A few metres away, a young man with grey eyes watched them disappear on the doorstep. He clutched an unidentifiable wad in one hand and rose to turn to the shadows behind him.

"Did you bring enough?" he whispered to one.

"More than enough," the man grunted. He stepped forward, and the moon's light illuminated his scraggly hair and withered face. His partner beside him also seemed to have suffered under time's spell, and their appearance only grew more disfigured in light of their leader's silky hair and perfectly formed face.

"Good." The leader nodded. "We need to be quick – I'm not sure when the exact time of arrival will be." He swiftly separated his wad into three parts and handed one to each man, keeping the last for himself.

The second man, his hair considerably longer and greasier than the first's, studied his wad in the moonlight and grimaced. "Don't tell me I got…"

"Would you rather return to the company of the rats?" the leader hissed. "Because I'll have no trouble finding a substitute for you."

The man glowered but relented, dropping his wad into a beaker of liquid. "The things I do for a little freedom," he muttered to himself.

"Cheers." The leader held his beaker up to the others'. The three men downed their individual liquids in unison, their faces contorted in disgust.

"_Now _will you properly explain yourself?"

Harry ignored Ron's question as he finished speaking with the Head of the Auror Office, Gawain Robards (who had stayed in office even after Scrimgeour's murder). Hermione listened carefully but couldn't pick up what they were saying. Ron, realizing his every word was being ignored, settled into a purple armchair by the fire.

The little meeting room they were confined to in the Ministry of Magic was dark and musty, telling the trio it hadn't been occupied for quite some time. Its windowless walls created a mysterious, slightly depressing atmosphere, and the small chandelier did little to penetrate the gloom. Countless specks of dust glowed in the soft light of the bulbs, and Hermione coughed.

Robards' sharp voice awoke Hermione from her intense concentration. "Would you care for anything while you wait?" He spoke as if they were being detained in the train station whilst on their holiday.

Ron opened his mouth abruptly, but Hermione cut him off. "Some coffee would be nice; thank you." Ron sank back against the plush padding of his chair and remained silent.

Harry walked toward them, scratching the back of his head with irritation. He paced the floor with agitated steps. "Bloody hell, I feel so helpless."

"Well, _I _feel quite content in my forced state of ignorance!" Ron hissed. "But if you would like to change that, by all means, enlighten me!"

It showed Hermione the seriousness of the situation when Harry didn't respond to Ron's jabs. Ron caught this, too, and raised his eyebrows. "Harry?"

Harry looked up as if suddenly realizing he wasn't alone. "Err…sorry. There's too much in my head right now."

"How serious is this, Harry?" Hermione spoke quietly.

Harry leaned against a wooden chair and lowered his head. "It's better now that Malfoy forewarned us and we're all here now…"

"Where's Mum and Dad, then?" Ron piped up. "And Ginny? George?"

"Calm down, mate; they're all being kept in another room in the Ministry," Harry told him. "They wanted to separate us so we're not easy to find if the Neo-Death Eaters decide to infiltrate the Ministry."

Hermione tried to take deep, steady breaths. "What led to this surprise attack? I mean, do you think they found out about…me and Draco?"

Harry shook his head. "I dunno, Hermione, but something made them act quickly and head for the Burrow. Malfoy's letter was short and frustratingly simple. All he said was that he knew of their plans to attack all three of us, and their intentions are worse than capture. He told us to seek refuge at the Ministry until he gave us word again."

Hermione shivered. "Did it sound to you like he has some sort of plan? Did his words sound confident or too rushed?"

"Both, I guess," Harry replied sourly. "But now that you mention it, he did say something about 'redirecting their efforts'. But this proves that he truly cares about you, Hermione – a couple years ago, Malfoy would never think of sending a letter to me to save our skins. He even made it sound like he cared what happened to me and Ron, too."

Ron snorted in disbelief, but the other two ignored him.

"So we're stuck here until he tells us it's safe to go back?" Hermione frowned. "That sounds too simple, Harry. It's not like the Neo-Death Eaters are going to throw up their hands and give up after finding the Burrow empty."

"I agree, Hermione, but what else can we do?" Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. "If Malfoy is to be trusted, he's our only accurate source of information. I spoke to Robards about the Death Eaters' plans, and he said he'd send a few Aurors to the Burrow so they can watch what our enemies do. If there's too many of them, the Aurors will gather reinforcements and attack. But Robards doesn't want a full-on battle to break out if they can avoid it."

"Why not?" Ron asked. "The sooner we send those bastards to where they belong, the better."

"They want to keep at least some alive so they can question them," Harry replied. "I'd, too, prefer if the Ministry just took care of them the quick way, but they want to know how many supporters exist and what their other intentions are for the wizarding world."

"Hermione, did you cut your hair yourself recently?"

Hermione and Harry stared at Ron as if the brains from the Department of Mysteries had attacked him again. "What the _hell?_" Harry cried with frustration.

Ron stood and grabbed a few uneven locks of Hermione's hair. "You did a crappy job of it, if you did."

Hermione grabbed her hair and studied it herself. She frowned at the few inch difference between one clump of hair and the rest. "How did _that_ happen?" she murmured.

"You've been seeing the same hair dresser, too!" Ron pointed to Harry, and all eyes focused on the visible section of black hair missing from Harry's scalp.

"It's not only us, mate…" Harry said after a moment.

Ron magicked a mirror into his hand and gasped as he studied his jagged hair line. "Why, that's just insulting! It's so bloody _obvious_! Who let me walk out in public this morning?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, and their eyes widened in unison.

"Malfoy!" they cried together.

"Bloody Polyjuice Potion!" Ron hissed, throwing his mirror onto the armchair. "But why did he need all three chunks of our hair? No one can turn into three people at once!"

"Don't you _get it?_" Hermione asked with exasperation. "He found accomplices, and now all three of us will show up at the Burrow when the Death Eaters arrive!"

"And depending on how great their battle skills are…" Harry continued. "It's not unlikely that one of them will be killed."

"We've got to stop him!"

"No!"

Harry grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and stopped her halfway to the door. "Hermione, Malfoy obviously has a plan. If we show up, the Death Eaters will see two of us and realize they've been fooled. The only way to save all three of us – the _real _us – is to wait here until we somehow learn what is happening there. It's likely the Aurors will protect us – err, them – and a battle won't even begin. I'll let Robards know what we've discovered, and hopefully he'll be able to stop our impersonators from being killed."

"Don't bother," Ron murmured. He spoke in the hopes of it being indiscernible, but Hermione heard and turned on him.

"Don't you _dare _be unsympathetic now when Draco is risking his very life to save _your _arse!"

"I didn't mean it like that…" Ron stammered.

"What _else _could you have…"

"ENOUGH!" Harry's wand shot sparks at them as he threw his fist against the wall. "It doesn't matter _who _is impersonating us, Ron! What matters is that we _are _being impersonated for our own safety, and we should do whatever we can to make sure their lives are the priority. I will get someone to separate the two of you if I must!"

Ron and Hermione turned their backs on the other in reluctant resignation.

"I'm going to speak to Robards," Harry told them, his voice shaking with anger. "If we're lucky, we'll be able to send more Aurors to the Burrow before Malfoy gets himself killed for our sake."


	20. Deception

**Chapter Twenty: Deception**

Hermione swatted away the fly buzzing close to her ear, but the insect hadn't been the first to wake her. In fact, she had hardly slept an hour before her mind jolted her awake. Ghostly images passed through her mind – dozens of shapes with barely recognizable faces jumbled together in an array of sparks and bangs. She thought she saw Draco's pale, tense face among the dark figures of her enemies.

Her enemies. She winced and rested back against her pillow. How could she keep up with Draco's perplexing games (was there a better word?) after he had convinced her he wasn't on his father's side? Should she be worried about what went through his head? The secrets he kept; the cons he created?

A bellowing snore echoed through the tiny Ministry room, and Hermione frowned with irritation. Ron's mouth opened in another wheeze, and she threw her pillow at his head. He reached up instinctively to thrust the fabric from his face, and he blinked in confusion before settling back into slumber.

_Obviously I'm the only one anxious enough to be kept awake, _Hermione thought with a sigh. _Ron especially doesn't care what happens to Draco as long as Draco stays far from him. _

The images returned to her mind but with a different outcome: a blast from someone's wand flew into Draco's chest and sent him falling to the ground. He remained immobile as a dark, cloaked figure approached him and, thrusting a foot into his chest, flashed a bright green light into his terrified face…

"No!" She flew upright, clutching her sleeping bag to her chest. Her eyes widened in the gloom, her vision slowly adjusting until she made out Harry sleeping close to the door and the red embers from the dying fire.

Her hands fumbled around the centre table until they tightened around a wand. She fingered it and, once confirming it was hers, stood up and smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt (they had had no choice but to sleep in their clothes).

"I'm coming, Draco," she whispered to the empty room. "Hang on a few minutes more."

Finding her way to the entrance of the Ministry proved more of a feat than trying not to give herself away as she crept along the dark corridors. Barely-lit candles flickered in the still air and barely brightened her path. Still groggy from a fitful sleep, she had to concentrate harder to discern the proper direction.

At last she came to The Atrium, which had previously housed the sickening "Magic is Might" statue. (With numerous petitions - Harry's being the most influential - the statue had been demolished soon after Voldemort's demise). Rushing to the nearest fireplace, she threw a handful of Flu Powder into the flickering flames and stepped across the grate. "The Burrow!" she cried.

The jostling and nausea from the travel thankfully didn't bother her as it once did. She stepped out with confidence into the empty living room of the Burrow. Her heart quickened as she arched her head to listen for any movement.

The silence that hit her was worse than screams.

Casting the Disillusionment Charm upon herself, she crept along the walls until she reached the door. After a quick surveillance, she noted that nothing was broken, torn apart, or bloody in the house. The door still stood on its hinges, and she could see no one beyond.

With shaking steps, Hermione ventured beyond the relative safety of the Burrow. She prepared herself to see gore and decapitated bodies strewn across the ground like rubbish, for there were only two explanations for the quiet around her: either the battle had ended, or there hadn't been one in the first place. Hermione prayed for the latter.

She sighed in relief at the stillness of the grounds and considered returning to the Ministry. Apparently the Aurors had done their job and no one had been injured. Now she could write to Draco in the hopes that she'd hear from him soon…

Then she saw the body.

The stars and full moon cast an eerie light upon the filthy corpse, which appeared to possess all its limbs but laid at an odd angle. Breathing deeply, Hermione stepped forward to where it lay a few dozens metres from the house. She had to remind herself that she may soon look into Harry's face, Ron's face, or even her own. She told herself the truth: her friends were safe and asleep at the Ministry. If she did see one of their faces here on the ground, it was simply an imposter.

_Simply_. She swallowed hard and berated herself for such insensitive thoughts. Even though it had to be no one she knew, someone still had died – more than likely to protect her. She owed them respect and care.

But she hadn't prepared herself to see the pallid face and bleach-blond hair of the man she loved.

Her scream caught in her throat, and her legs weakened. Her Disillusionment Charm broke, making her visible to the world. She sunk to his side and placed a shaking hand on his blood-strewn chest. Blood and dirt streaked his cold cheeks, and Draco's eyes were wide and cloudy in death.

"No…no!" she breathed, falling onto his chest and foolishly searching for breath, a pulse, anything to prove that some life still existed within. She realized that if his body still remained here, untouched, the battle must have ended not long before.

And she hadn't been there with him.

"_Draco!_" Tears burned her eyes as she choked back a rising sob. "Draco, you stupid boy! How could you do this? How could you leave me here alone?" She tried to scream at him, but her body had collapsed into uncontrollable sobs. All she could do was fall onto his chest and attempt to discern his heartbeat. But all she felt was stiffness and cold.

Hermione didn't notice the presence above her until it was too late to run. But even with forewarning, she knew she could never have escaped. All her energy and concern for her own well-being had died with her love.

She only looked up and studied the stranger when she realized whose face was before her.

"Harry?"

The man, almost as filthy as Draco, slowly shook his head. He made not a movement, nor did he raise the wand clutched in his hand.

After a tense moment, the stranger spoke in a whisper. "Why did you come back?"

Hermione regarded the imposter's expression uneasily. His pale face was drooped in either weariness or grief. He studied her with uncertainty, though he did not seem unkind. Hermione vaguely wondered, in the midst of her torn and grieving mind, what kind of men Draco had petitioned to take her and her friends' places. Whose side were they on?

She struggled to remember what he had asked her. "I had to come back," she spoke softly. She slowly stroked Draco's cheek, letting the agony encompass her as she realized she'd never kiss or hold him again. "I had to come back for him. But I came too late! He died trying to save me, and now I'll never get to thank him."

The stranger in Harry's skin knelt down to her level and studied Draco's body with careful, cautious eyes. Hermione watched his face, frowning at his foreign expression. "Who are you?" she whispered. "And why haven't you killed me?"

The man raised his head and held her gaze. He swallowed hard, seemingly trying to speak the correct words. "Draco would've been foolish to choose men with sinful intentions to fight for you," he said. "They were chosen because they didn't have a side and weren't afraid of death. But I'm amazed, Hermione, that you don't think Draco was intelligent enough to find a man to cover for _him_, not just for the three of you."

"I…I didn't…" She gazed into the man's eyes to find a kind of compassion there she had only seen in one other person. It was unique, it spoke to her heart, and shock rippled through her as comprehension came.

"Draco?" she wept.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. Hermione's jaw dropped as she tried to saying something, _anything_, but her body couldn't obey after the double shock she had been dealt.

Draco's hand had just reached up to stroke her face when a voice thundered through the air.

"It's Potter! Potter's returned!"

Before either of them could react, a spell came whizzing toward Draco and struck him in the back, paralyzing him instantly. Hermione screamed and reached for her wand, but a body materialized behind her and grabbed her around the waist. Another man took her wand and threw it several metres into the trees beyond. He did the same with Draco's wand.

Lucius Malfoy, his long hair matted with dirt and leaves, approached Draco with sinful greed in his eyes. His mouth grew into a wicked sneer as he grabbed Draco around the throat and hauled him upright. He freed him from paralysis but kept him locked under his firm grip. Hermione struggled against her captor's hold, but the man dug his wand tip into her throat and whispered, "Try and save him and you'll hasten your death."

Lucius studied his son's body on the ground and snarled. He turned back to Draco with flashing eyes. "_You! _You killed my son, didn't you, Potter?"

Draco clenched his teeth and remained silent. Lucius grabbed his hair and pulled, but Draco hardly winced. Hermione desperately tried to summon a plan to mind, but she had spoken to no one before leaving the Ministry, and Harry and Ron were more than likely still asleep. She knew not a soul could come to their aide.

But if she was to die, Hermione desired it to occur with no one else but Draco.

"Years of hatred have finally overwhelmed you, I see!" Lucius spat in Draco's ear. "You had no aversion to killing my son whilst the rest of us chased after Weasley and Granger. I thought they both had escaped, but I see Granger returned to you. Well, two out of three will have to suffice!"

"Please!" Hermione gasped. "Please don't kill him! He didn't kill Draco. I saw someone else do it long before!"

"Hush, Mudblood!" her captor hissed. "Lies will not save your friend now."

Glaring mercilessly down at him, Lucius threw Draco onto the ground before raising his wand above his heart. "I don't expect you to defend your malicious actions or plead for mercy, but I'll have you know that my son was to surrender the location of the Elder Wand if he lived. Now, after I kill you, I'll be forced to torture the information out of Granger before she suffers your same fate."

Draco cast fearful eyes at Hermione as tears leaked from Hermione's own. She tried to put on a brave face for him…for he was looking at her for the last time.

"I love you," she mouthed.

Lucius ignored her entirely. "I will destroy you, Potter, in the name of the Dark Lord who still lives among us!" Lucius raised his wand higher, and his eyes widened in madness. "May the afterlife have pity on your vile soul…"

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

A blast of green light struck Lucius Malfoy in the side. His face frozen in astonishment, he slumped over and was still. Another blast and the Death Eater who held her collapsed in a lump on the ground, his eyes wide and vacant.

Hermione raised her terrified gaze to the figures behind the body of Lucius. She gasped at the sight of her and Ron, their faces contorted in rage. "Ron" ran toward Draco and helped him up.

"Sorry about that." The man wiped dirt from his hands as he glared down at Lucius. "But I figured you'd rather have us kill your father than have him kill you."

Draco nodded distractedly, his face stiff and emotionless. Upon seeing Hermione, he darted from his partners and went to her. He pulled her tightly into an embrace and let her cry against him. Hermione couldn't grasp a single emotion; a wide mix of shock, horror, and relief rushed through her veins and left her weak.

Draco eventually released her to turn to the imposters. "Where are the other Death Eaters?"

"We followed them secretly after they thought we'd escaped," replied the person impersonating Hermione. Hermione couldn't watch as he/she spoke – it was too strange. "They all left for separate destinations after one said that they'd expect word from Lucius or Draco later."

Draco nodded and turned back to Hermione. He kissed her forehead gently and murmured, "You're shaking; you need to get back to the Ministry."

"No!" she blurted. "Not without you!"

He sighed. "I won't receive a warm welcome from Potter and Weasley…especially when I look like this."

"Then we'll wait until the potion wears off," Hermione replied insistently. "And they _can't _hate you when you're the reason they're still alive!"  
"Yeah, mate; be aggressive!" The man in Ron's body laughed. "Show them who's boss!"

Draco smiled weakly. He looked exhausted, Hermione noticed, and strained.

_He just watched his father die, _she reminded herself. _He needs to recover. _

"Let's rest inside before we go to the Ministry." Hermione took his hand and led him toward the Burrow. "I'll make you something to eat, then I'll send word to the…"

"Don't bother," Ron's impersonator interrupted. "We'll make sure the Ministry knows what happened. We'll try and round up the remaining Death Eaters, as well. We can only hope that, once they know that Lucius and Draco are dead, they'll disperse and not rise up again."

Hermione gasped and halted, her grip tightening around Draco's waist. "Oh my god, Draco! The world will think you're dead now!"

Draco shrugged, trying to appear unaffected. "The only person I want to know the truth is you, Hermione. It'll be better that everyone thinks I'm gone. Perhaps then the Neo-Death Eater cult will weaken without a leader, and I'm sure the Ministry will help with that."

Hermione fell against his chest, ravishing the feel of his breath on her skin and the pounding of his heart. Only a few minutes ago, she had been trying to find a heartbeat in another man's body. What did she do to deserve him, alive and breathing beside her?

"I think _you're _the one who needs the rest," Draco said, watching her collapse against him. "Then you can wake up and pretend this whole business never happened."

Hermione tried to smile, but she couldn't make her mouth move correctly. "I don't think that's possible, Draco." She knew the image of Draco's dead body would haunt her the rest of her life.


	21. Freedom with a Price

**Chapter Twenty-One: Freedom with a Price**

Gawain Robards forewarned Harry and Ron that "two visitors" would arrive the following morning. Hermione and Draco spent a full day recuperating at the Burrow, though neither of them managed to eat much or sleep for long periods of time. They remained wrapped in each other's arms, savouring the warmth of the other and thanking God for sparing both their lives. They didn't speak much, for there was nothing to be said. They both were aware of the choices they'd have to make soon, but they wished to forestall the inevitable.

When they finally arrived at the Ministry the next morning (both abnormally subdued), they met Harry and Ron in the same room the trio had been confined to. They stopped a few feet from Hermione's best friends, and all four awkwardly regarded each other. Ron looked down and rocked back on his heels, but Harry managed to keep Draco's eye.

Harry cleared his throat self-consciously. "Err…thank you, Draco. Thank you for protecting all of us and minding Hermione. We owe you loads."

Draco smiled a little uneasily. "Don't bother, Potter. I didn't do it for you."

Hermione cast him an appalled look, but Draco chuckled.

Ron tried not to glare too forcefully. "So if you only did it for Hermione, does that mean Harry and I aren't in your debt? 'Cause I can see you holding that over our heads for the next few decades."

Hermione pursed her lips and shook her head at Ron, but Draco's smile widened. He turned to Hermione and said, "You should have known long ago, Hermione, that nothing can repair our long-lasting detestation for each other. Though perhaps we can keep it at a lesser, non-violent dislike? Regardless, no, Weasley, you aren't indebted to me. Though if there's ever an opportunity for you to save _my _arse, I'd appreciate at least an attempt from the two of you."

Harry nodded slowly. "I guess you deserve that."

Hermione sighed. "This isn't going to be easy, is it?"

Draco wrapped an arm around her despite Ron's glowers. "I'll try to make our meetings as infrequent as possible, for all our sakes."

"I'm curious," Harry spoke up. Hermione was grateful that he tried to make his voice appear pleasant. "Who were the people you…_persuaded_ to assist in your plot?"  
Draco narrowed his eyes. "If you're suspecting I used the Imperius Curse on them, you're to be disappointed. They were volunteers, Potter, from Azkaban."

Harry blinked. "Azkaban?"

"That's right. Quite a few are mates of my father's, one of whom cared for me as a child." Draco sniggered darkly. "Three blokes named Tyson, Evan, and Bronwen gladly surrendered themselves for the cause. I don't know what landed them in Azkaban, but it didn't matter because I knew they'd obey any order. And seeing as there aren't any more dementors guarding the prison, their minds were still intact. They were willing to do anything if they had the opportunity to fight, even if that fighting risked their lives. Hermione and I wouldn't be here if it weren't for them."

"How did you manage to sneak them out of Azkaban?" Ron asked doubtfully. "Even without dementors, that place is heavily guarded."

"Certain people favourable to my father work there," Draco replied, raising his chin slightly. "When I told them I needed a few prisoners for my father's work, they let us through without questions asked. It's amazing how daft some wizards can be."

"So you took four?" Ron questioned, trying to find some flaw in Draco's careful work. "Three for us and one for you?"

"If you can count, I only stated three names," Draco drawled, pursing his lips. "I took on someone's identity so I could see first-hand what went on."

Hermione knew Ron couldn't hold back the question. "Who were _you_, then?"

Draco raised his eyes to the ceiling and groaned. "Is that really necessary?"

Ron glanced from Draco to Harry and suddenly grinned. "You were Harry, weren't you? You wanted to be the Chosen One in the battle to feel important! How bloody strange! Who knew you'd even _want _to be in Harry's body?"

"Stop it, Ron!" Hermione snapped. "It's not something to laugh at! He did what he had to do."

Harry remained silent, though his lips were pressed together tightly.

"For the record," Draco said, surveying Harry's face carefully. "You've got nice abs, Potter. I never knew how fit you were."

Although the compliment was obviously forced, Harry's face softened and he nodded. "Thanks."

To avoid another uncomfortable silence, Hermione changed the subject. "I've offered for Draco to stay at the Burrow for a few days, if that's alright. He doesn't have anywhere else to go, you see…"

This time, even Ron looked sympathetic as the facts sunk into all their minds. "We heard what happened there," Harry said quietly. "We're sorry for…what took place. You've honestly decided to keep your fate a secret? To have no one know you live?" Hermione knew he directly avoided saying "I'm sorry your father died," because the truth was that none of them were sorry. Perhaps even Draco wasn't grieving much, although she'd probably never know how Lucius' death was affecting him. He kept silent on even the smallest mention of it.

Draco nodded. "There wasn't a decision to make; I knew it had to be this way. Now I can completely remove myself from society and make a new life for myself elsewhere where no one will know me. Then I can create a new reputation."

Harry and Ron instantly eyed Hermione. "What about Hermione?" Ron inquired, softer than previous. "Is she going with you?"

Hermione swallowed hard at the pain in his voice. She opened her mouth to respond, but Draco cut her off.

"No. Not yet. I have to build a home for myself first and make sure the Death Eaters have dispersed and lost control here in England. When the time is right, I'll write to her and ask what she wishes to do. I'm not forcing myself upon her in any way, and I promise you I never will. If she decides to stay with you, she'll never see me again."

Hermione's heart ached at the very thought of that reality. She promised herself that, no matter how long it took him to build a new life, and no matter how forcefully Harry and Ron pressured her to stay, she'd follow him wherever she needed to.

Harry and Ron must have seen this conclusion on her face, for they both looked despairingly resolved. She gazed down and avoided looking at them altogether.

"I'm going to leave now."

Hermione's heart jumped as she glanced up at him. "Draco, wait! Not yet; I thought we had at least another day…"

"Hermione, the longer I stay in England the more possibilities there are that someone will see me. Please don't cry; I promise you I won't be away too long. A month at the most. I'll write to you by owl and then you can decide what you want. But _please _promise me you'll consider staying here."

Hermione didn't hesitate. "Of course not! How absurd…"

Draco held a finger to her lips. "You have the think about the future, love. If you stay with me, there's the possibility of us having to relocate several times, depending on how well I can conceal my identity. We'd also have to move far from England to a place where I'm certain no one knows my family. I don't want you to sacrifice all you have here just for me."

Hermione made to speak, but he hushed her again. "Not now. Just think about it, please? Then, when you hear from me again, you'll be able to make the right choice for you. Now I must go. Potter?"

Harry (who had been pretending he wasn't watching their passionate exchange), looked up.

"Did Robards explain to you what he plans to do with the information you disclosed to him?"

"A little," Harry said. "He's already in the process of speaking with the Minister. He promised that, if the information does leak out – which is inevitable with the deaths – the Ministry will support the story that both you and your father died in battle whilst the three of us survived. I told him there'd be harsh penalties if word got out you were still alive."

Draco smiled. "Thank you. I really do appreciate all you both are doing for my safety."

Ron grunted, but Harry returned the smile. "It's the least we can do for what you sacrificed for us. You're damn lucky you're still alive, Malfoy. You _were_ the Chosen One, after all."

Draco chuckled humourlessly. "You're right about that. I rather did myself in for becoming such a national figure."

He turned and kissed Hermione softly on the lips before heading for the door.

"Draco?"

He turned back.

Another tear slipped from her eye. "Please be safe."

He inclined his head toward her. "For you, I will; as long as you promise to do the same. My life is worth nothing if you're not alive."

She nodded and smiled, though inside she was being torn apart. She hadn't expected a parting so soon after what they had gone through. However, knowing he was alive and safe made this kind of parting easier. A parting because of death would've destroyed her.

When he had gone, Harry approached her and took her into his arms, where she released the last of her tears.

"You've got some guy there," he told her sincerely.

Hermione smiled against his chest. "I know. I'm so blessed, but I'm most thankful for my two best friends in the world. Thank you for not deserting me when you discovered the truth."

Harry kissed the top of her head. "Rubbish, Hermione. Even if we're not thrilled with your beau of choice, we just want you to be happy. You know we could never stay away from you after all we've gone through. So it looks like you'll have pesky mates trailing after you if you leave the country with him."

"Yeah, we'll live next door," Ron chimed in. "We'll try to keep you pests from snogging all day."

Hermione laughed. "God, I don't deserve you both. But I'm glad you think I do."

**Three Weeks Later**

"Hell, Ginny; you're getting big!"

Ginny Potter smiled and rubbed her swollen belly. "I'm only twenty weeks, Ron. Just wait until I'm thirty-eight! You'll have to dislodge me from small doorways."

"And you'll name him after your favourite brother, right?"

Ginny smiled and sipped her lemonade. She gazed out at the sinking sun, watching a splash of pink and blue colour the darkening sky. "Well, I'd like to, but I'm not overly fond of the name George."

Ron glowered, and Ginny nudged him playfully with a laugh.

Hermione watched them with contentment as she leaned against one side of the Burrow. All four of them – she, Harry, Ginny and Ron – had remained at the Burrow despite them already having separate homes. Thankfully, Mr and Mrs Weasley were fully accommodating and told them they could live at the Burrow for as long as they wished.

"What if it's a girl?" Harry massaged his wife's back, much to Ginny's relief.

"Do you want a girl, Harry?" Ron asked. "I thought you were more of a boy type."

Harry snickered. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You know what I mean! You want to play Quidditch in the yard with a young lad more than play Barbies using silly voices."

"I dunno; I thought Harry was rather fond of make-believe play," Hermione taunted. "He can do Barbie's voice amazingly well."

Harry cast her a look. "Thanks, love."

She smiled sweetly. "Any time."

"Hermione, look!" Ginny pointed toward the clear-blue sky, making all follow her finger.

Hermione grew attentive as her new tawny owl, Peregrine, swooped down from the sky and landed on her outstretched arm. He flapped a grey envelope in her face.

"It's like this every day," Ron muttered. "Who's to say _this _letter will be the one?"

Harry kicked him with his foot, and Ron grumbled.

Hermione gasped when she read the return address. "It's from Russia!"

"Russia?" Ron and Harry questioned in unison. They cast each other dubious looks, but Hermione ignored them.

She ripped open the envelope and scanned the parchment until she found the signature. She frowned when she discovered it wasn't signed, but she recognized the handwriting. "Yes, it's from him!"

No one uttered a word as she read each word carefully, her heart pounding as if his very handwriting could summon him in person.

Dearest Hermione,

I'm sorry for the long delay in correspondence, but it hasn't been as easy as I figured to secure a place of residence. I've now settled in a flat rented to me by a kind older couple with no children. They've given me a low rate which will save me hassle in the long run.

Unfortunately, I must be vague in case this letter is intercepted. You'll see by the postmark where I'm at, but I cannot tell you any more. I did search awhile for somewhere closer to home, but this country has been the only one I feel most comfortable with. I know no extended family or friends who live here, and the size of the country is a comfort in case I need to change regions. This is one of those moments I am thankful for magic – there's no need for a single language lesson! Now locals think I'm from here, which also helps my cover.

Dear love, I miss you more than I can say. I wish I could write to you forever, but I find comfort in the knowledge that I'll be seeing you soon. Only a few days, I reckon. Apparition does make for easy cross-continental travel!

I hope you have thought long and hard about your decision. I stand by what I said before: I will love you no matter what you choose. So don't destroy your life for my sake.

I hope you're keeping well. All my love to you.

Harry, Ron and Ginny stared at her expectantly, and Hermione felt obligated to let them read his letter. Harry and Ginny expressed their sincere wishes for the best, but Ron found Draco's letter rather comical.

"He writes like he's from the nineteenth century!" he chuckled. "Who's he trying to fool with such _eloquence?" _

Hermione took his taunting in stride, for nothing could dampen her spirits now that she knew Draco was safe and coming back for her. And despite what he had said about "thinking long and hard" about her decision, there hadn't been a need for her to question her choice at all. Even though she'd always think of England as home and wish to visit often, she couldn't imagine a life without Draco now that it was irrefutable he loved her.

"Now don't sit outside for days watching for him," Harry said. "He sounds occupied."

"I wonder what kind of job he's taken," Ron mused. "What could be on his résumé? 'Official head of underground cult following ex-Dark Lord,' or 'I possess excellent manipulation skills, and I know a variety of torture methods.'"

"Ron, _must _this go on?" Ginny shook her head sadly.

Ron looked affronted. "Hey, I'm just being realistic! What kind of life could he make for himself when he has no experience in the Muggle world?"

"Maybe he found a wizarding lot who took him in?" Harry considered.

"I'd like to see Malfoy working at a Muggle butcher shop," Ron continued without limit. "Can you imagine him as a cashier? 'Yes, what would you like today? Okay, a pound of beef and one calf's hoof...' I'd have to go and take a photo!"

Hermione deserted them as Ron led the intense speculation of Draco's future career. Although Harry had joked about it, she wanted nothing else than to live outside so she'd spot him the second he approached the Burrow. Would he have changed? Would he look at her differently?

_Rubbish, Hermione! He's only been gone a little more than a fortnight. If he really didn't want to be with you, he'd never have written at all! _

Despite what she told herself, Hermione couldn't completely smother the doubt and fear burning in her heart.

"So when are you going back to work, Hermione? Or did you go on an extended holiday because of 'Draco-itis'?"

Hermione smiled at Ginny over her dinner. "Being involved in that battle – at least hypothetically – has granted me a few weeks off. I'm squeezing all I can out of it, but I'm dreading quitting when Draco comes back. I really enjoy that job."

"Isn't there a Russian Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked as he poured himself milk. "I thought there was a Ministry in every country, or at least in every continent."

"I never thought that over," Hermione admitted. "It depends on where the witches and wizards are distributed around the world. Since magical talent is hereditary, I'm sure there are more magical communities in some countries than in others. But that's speculation, really."

"I'd like to say my best friend is in the Russian Ministry," Ginny said. "You can bring different viewpoints to the table as a talented witch abroad."

"I'll definitely let you know what happens," Hermione told them. "If he comes, that is."

"Come off it, Hermione!" Harry chastised. "He'll come; I have no doubt."

"Absolutely _no _doubt?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "What makes you so confident?"

Harry shrugged, studying something outside the kitchen window. "Oh, nothing much. Only that he's walking this way right now."

Ginny slapped his arm. "That's nothing to tease about, Harry! You'll start making her hyperventilate."

Despite herself, Hermione followed Harry's gaze until she glimpsed the small figure far off among the trees. She squinted and noticed how quickly it approached the house. She remained still until she made out its slim figure and bright hair.

She dropped her glass of milk onto the table, sending a flow of liquid across the tablecloth. Ginny quickly floated the milk back into the glass with her wand. Hermione clutched a hand to her heart and tried to remember to breathe. "Oh my god, it's him!"

Harry grinned, and Ginny pushed her toward the door. "Then go to him, girl!"

A wide grin spread across her face as she ran through the front door and out onto the freshly mowed grass. The breeze carried the fresh, late summer scents of blossoming flowers, pollen, and fertilizer, which rejuvenated her and increased her pace. A smile flashed on Draco's face, and Hermione stopped a few feet in front of him to take him all in.

Draco laughed at her entranced expression. "What's the matter? Were you expecting someone else?"

She laughed with him and flew into his arms, the force of her momentum throwing Draco backwards until they both hit the ground with a thud. They didn't stop to readjust themselves before Draco latched his mouth onto hers and kissed her longingly.

They broke apart to breathe, and Draco laughed again, his blissful voice like wedding bells on the wind. "What happened to the dignified Granger I once knew?"

Hermione gave him several quick pecks on the lips. "You bring out the worst in me, Malfoy. So what took you long?"

He stroked her face delicately, studying every part of it like he had never seen anything so striking. "I had to confirm a few things first." His face fell unexpectedly. "So I assume you've made your decision? Remember this can't be based solely on me. Being with me doesn't entail a stable life. There'll always be risk and danger as long as we live."

Hermione placed her hands on either side of his face. "Do you _really_ think I'd greet you like this if I had any doubts about being with you?"

Draco didn't seem convinced. "I'd be accountable if something happened to you. I would never forgive myself if you had to sacrifice all that's good and right here just to be with me. I don't deserve you, Hermione."

Hermione shook her head with a furrowed brow. "That's rubbish, love, and you know it. I don't deserve how good you've been to me, but I won't allow us to stay apart just because of our foolish thoughts. And if you've forgotten, I've been Harry Potter's best friend for about a decade. I'm no stranger to threats. I've also always been stubborn, so believe me when I say that I'm going to follow you wherever you go. If you'll have me, that is."

Draco kissed her delicately, and Hermione didn't want him to stop. When he pulled back, Hermione noticed a glistening in his eyes. Her heart jumped – never once had she seen tears in Draco Malfoy's eyes.

"Hermione Granger," he whispered, taking her hand in his. "You may be an irritating know-it-all and a stubborn bookworm, but I want no one else but you. You brought out the good in me, and I'll forever be in your debt for saving me from a corrupted life."

Her eyes stung in response, and she nestled up closer to him, relaxing under his beating heart.

They remained together under the shade of the trees for the rest of the night, and when the stars came out, they fell asleep under Heaven's glow.

** THE END **


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